The Court of Stripes
by influenceONchildren
Summary: Circus!AU. Welcome to Le Cirque de Fantômes — where calliope sings and cottoned candy tastes sweeter than sugar. Let go of all your worries and try to not let go of any friends. Guests have been known to... disappear. We would hate for that to happen to you. COMPLETED.
1. Chapter 1

**Author stuff: Welcome one and all to the three ringed circus that is my mind! No seriously, I pretty sure there are three rings in there.**

**Greeting and salutations to everyone who is new, and much love to my old friends and readers peeping in to see what this is. **

**For anyone who is not aware, this is a murder mystery set in a circus. It has been in the works since July 2013 for that Camp NaNoWriMo and had been, unfortunately, stuck in limbo until some short time ago when I was able to finish writing it. Yes, this fic is completely written. And, because of this, I am able to post a chapter a day for you to delight yourselves with.**

**Plus, there a little bonus collection of fics entitled _Preludes to the Circus_ — already available on this site. Feel free to read them and gain some background info about this world.**

**Since this was started last year, and I hated to change the dates because the worked** _so_** well with the lunar cycle, I kept them. So, this story takes place** _last_ **year. Enjoy that.**

**Just as our _Danny Phantom_ has been around for ten years, I have been on ff for ten years (this being my second account) and I wanted to celebrate with something special for all of you. This fic is my gift to everyone who has been in the Phandom as long as I have been writing. Much love and cupcakes to you all.**

_**This fanfic is dedicated to my past and fellow NaNoers,  
>for you ever helpful love and support.<strong>_

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Danny Phantom_. All legal rights belong to Nickelodeon and Butch Hartman.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Court of Stripes<strong>

**by iOc**

**Chapter 1**

_**Friday, 11 October 2013**_

"What do you think you're doing?"

Danny jumped, releasing the door knob to the hall of mirrors. It technically wasn't open to the public yet but that didn't mean that he — a cirky, a circus employee — couldn't access it.

He turned around and saw the abnormally pale ringmaster and assistant director frowning up at him. This was Frederich Isak Showenhower — however he was best known as Freakshow. The name suited him.

"Just, er, going into the Hall of Mirrors," Danny said.

"Oh? And how many people like going into the Hall of Mirrors for fun nowadays."

"I do…?"

"Well… shouldn't you be working or something?"

"I have some down time at the moment. I can go in, can't I?"

"On a normal day, yes. However, the cleaning crew just finished up. It would be best not to mar their hard work. Now, why don't you run along and go… play with the animals or whatever it is you do."

Danny started back to his family's RV. His parents would be gone — they had an act to rehearse. His sister… probably assisting the teacher for the children at the circus or in the trailer that acted as the main office.

He sighed, thinking back to what his father had told him about their family. On his father's side, he is a twelfth generation circus performer. They had come to the states seeking a better life, ended up as criminals, and running away to the circus. On his mother's side, there was no history — which was very startling for anyone in their world. But, his father had fallen in love with his mother at first sight. He wrote letters to her while he traveled, and she wrote back. Their story was like something from a romance novel — only with a freaky circus theme that is.

Shrugging, he entered his family's RV. It was a monstrous beast set somewhere in the middle of the guarded, temporary living space for cirkies. It was a three bedroom, two bath moving vehicle that suited the family's needs on and off the road. It was home.

His and his sister's rooms were at the far end, separated only by cabinets and a small bathroom with only a sink and a toilet. His was on the left and her's on the right.

His bedroom was abnormally cluttered with what few things he owned. Most of the clutter was his clothes. He couldn't remember what was clean and what was not. But his costume was on the ground. Great, that would need to be ironed.

He sniffed it.

And washed. Badly. Or fabreezed.

He decided to swing by the costumer's RV and see if anything could be done for the wrinkles and the stench. He grabbed the rest of it off the floor and looked around for something to occupy his time with.

He had several projects laying around. A wire-based prop needed to be fixed, a soundtrack for a film needed to be edited, a film he had worked on needed to be edited… badly, a screenplay that needed some polishing and another that needed an ending, and an act that needed a little work.

"What to do," he said, humming. He picked up one of the screenplays and flipped through it. That scene needed to be rewritten. So did that one. And, yeesh, that one needed to be cut up into a million pieces, burned, thrown out to sea, and eaten by sharks.

Then again, they were scenes in his B-grade film noir series. He was hoping to revive the genre — kind of like what _Blade Runner_ tried to do, only better.

He set it down and grabbed an empty notebook. He was grateful that his sister had free time to go and run errands. She worked in the office with the owner, Matthew Zeitlos — better known to his employees as Clockwork. It was a rather comfy job — considering that everyone else in the circus had hard, manual labor.

The cover had an unusual, white cardboard front boldly declaring it could contain three subjects. He hadn't decorated it yet with anything. Usually, he would just glue some things cut out from magazines that went along with the screenplay and write the official title in sharpie. Since he didn't have an idea yet of what he wanted to make, it was best to just jot down any ideas that he had.

He picked his costume back up, cradling the tangled bundle between his chest and the notebook, he headed out to the costumer's RV.

* * *

><p>Grace Lord was <em><strong>not<strong>_ happy to see him or the state of his costume. She wrinkled her nose and frowned at him.

"What the hell, Fenton?" she said. "You know you're supposed to hang this up after every performance. You're lucky that I always have an extra one for you and your father. The two of you, really."

"So, can I borrow the other one for my performance this afternoon?" he said, raising his eyebrows hopefully. He clasped his hands together and smiled expectantly. It worked _**every**_ time.

She rolled her eyes and nodded, getting to work. She waved him away, telling him to come back in an hour or so when she had his backup costume all ironed out for him. He smiled and jogged out of the RV, knowing she would work on it immediately.

He made his way over to the stables, hoping to run into someone he knew so he could start talking about a new film idea. Tucker was good for that. He may have been the scrawny animal trainer, but he enjoyed the same films as Danny. Plus he was just as knowledgeable when it came to the noir genre.

"Tucker," Danny said, calling as he pushed aside the canvas door. He received no answer. "Tuck? You here?"

"Yeah, just give me a moment," a voice said from the far back.

"Need any help?"

"No, I've got things covered."

Danny hopped up on one of the benches running along the side. Tucker had the radio on. Some pop artist was wailing away — he could care less, really. The song ended and the DJ started talking.

"Wow, what a great song." the DJ said. "I remember when she first came out. She certainly has gotten a stronger voice over the past couple of years. I don't think anyone had grown as much as she has in such a short period of time…"

He rambled on for a minute before announcing the local news.

"Emma L'estrange is still missing," the DJ said. "This is day three. She is 5'7" and 145 lbs., brunette, gray eyes. Remember, if anyone has any information, please call 555-86..."

"They've been running that message a lot this past hour." Tucker said, stepping out of the stall he had been previously working in. He looked the same — dark skin and hair hidden underneath a red cap, round jaw under a flat face with intelligent green eyes. "She is apparently the top student at a local college. Highly involved with a lot of activities, an equal rights activist and whatnot. Pretty important to her peers by the sound of things. They're the ones funding the announcements."

"Huh. Wonder if she ever came to the circus." Danny said. If he saw a picture of her, no doubt he would recognize the face. He was pretty good with observing people and remembering what they looked like.

"If she had, it might have been her last day with us, from the sound of things." Tucker sat down next to him. "So, Kwan rehearsing for tonight?"

"Yeah, he's pitifully nervous. I don't know why. He does good every time."

"Nerves are good, though. They keep you performers on your toes."

"I don't want to be on my toes all the time. It's not fun. It's like a ballet or something…"

Tucker shrugged, brushing it off.

"So," he said, "why did you come see me?"

"I need a new idea for a screenplay."

"But you haven't finished the others you started. Wasn't there one about a tea shop?"

"It was a café, and that one just needs to be edited and the other with the mermaid just needs an ending. Those are easy enough, but I don't feel like working on them today. So, I need an idea. Have any?"

"Why not create a new hero and have the film set in the circus or something? I don't think anyone has ever done that before."

"Yeah and there's a reason for that. No one wants to see a noir film set in the circus. It'd be too easy. Most members of the circus in the 40s and 50s were criminals who ran from the law. Finding a serial killer as one of their own is to passé. Got anything else?"

"Nope. And, passé? Really?"

Danny huffed and closed his notebook.

"Well, if I'm not going to be working on a new script, do you want to walk around for a little bit?" he said. "I have about an hour before I need to go pick up my costume from Grace."

"Costume needed a repair?"

"No, it stunk and it was wrinkled. She's getting the backup ready?"

"What do you do to that thing?"

"Who knows."

* * *

><p>The two young men wandered around the circus grounds, poking fun at the early gillies — civilians — and their fellow employees. They shouted playful jabs at the ones they knew best, and they were able to convince the man in charge of making the cotton candy to give them three free bags.<p>

They eventually rounded back around to the RVs and found the third person to their trio, an acrobat named Kwan. He was not happy to see them — especially since he was clad in a purple _**unitard**_.

"You guys know that my rehearsal's not over yet, right?" he said. He saw the unopened bag of cotton candy. "Is that for me?"

"Yeah, we figured you could use one for all the hard work you do," Danny said, polishing off his own bag. It melted deliciously in his mouth.

"Although, with that attitude, I'm not sure you deserve it," Tucker said.

"You guys are asses, I hope you know that," Tucked said, frowning. Danny tossed the bag to his friend.

"Eat it when you're done rehearsing," he said. "I need to go pick up my costume from Grace now. I have a show in a bit. It takes me a while with the makeup and everything. Last time I wasn't ready in time. We started five minutes late, and you know how _**he**_ gets when that happens."

"Do you mind if we come and watch it for once? I mean, we've only seen the show once or twice, and the performance has changed from when you first started…"

Danny shrugged. It was really up to his mentor. He had no say in a lot of things about the performance. He was just there to play the role of the assistant.

His mentor asked him to be the assistant in the illusionist act several years before he finally agreed to it. He didn't like the man personally — seeing as how he always flirted with Danny's mother — but he was a fantastic teacher. Within the first week, Danny had learned the entire routine and he had been able to help with it.

The only thing he honestly disliked about it was his costume. He was forced to wear a wig and contacts, along with a sheer shirt — a _**blouse**_ —, a black vest and matching short-shorts, and tights. He felt like a girl in it. He _**looked**_ like a girl in it.

On the plus side, it got him out of his family's clown act. Really, no act was more replaceable or flexible as the clown act. It could be moved around to suit any part of the show, not to mention that it was a very competitive field. The only thing more competitive was the aerialist act and that was not by much.

He had never been more grateful to be born circus when it came to being able to get into a show. Managers and directors — the entire circus world, really — had vast amounts of respect for people born circus — people who have several generations of circus and sawdust in their veins. With his father's family being an old circus family, he didn't ever have to really worry about not ever having a job or a home.

Yes, he was very fortunate.

* * *

><p><em>Le Cirque de Fantômes<em> was a one ring circus that offered rides and other side shows to occupy a person's time until the main attraction started. While most circuses were targeted towards families, this circus actually went for teens and young adults — a surprising number always showed up every night from miles around to see a performance.

It would always surprise Danny to see so many people his own age in one place. Most of the circus employees were older or younger than he was, only a small portion of their population were his peers. And of those… well, only Tucker and Kwan were willing to befriend him.

He used to watch the gillies with wide, blue eyes. They were curious beings that marched about, shrieking and pointing around like children. He had never been more interested in their world than he was during that afternoon.

The audience followed their schedule. The circus had afternoon activities for them to attend. At noon, the grounds would open and there would be a novelty concert; followed by the illusionist show at one; the animals and rides at two; a skills, strongmen, and sword swallowing demonstration at three; a second illusionist show at five; another novelty concert at six; the evening performance at nine, ending at half-past ten; and the grounds closing at one.

Those working days were always the longest and that day was no exception.

The gillies showed up right on time, as did Kwan and Tucker — who blinked in surprise when they saw him in his costume.

He looked dramatically different from the dark-hair, blue-eyed young man he normally was. The white wig looked very authentic — a lace-front with a deep part off to the left side — and the green contacts were the only source of color from him.

The costume contrasted with his mentor's, who dressed in a white suit with a black wig and red contacts. They looked like complete opposites, and that suited Danny just fine.

They dazzled the audience, with his mentor's abilities, and his way of simply getting viewers to join them in the tricks with just a smile. It was the whole reason he had been chosen to be the assistant — almost no one been able to say no to him.

Today was a pretty blonde who — like he — was wearing green contacts, only her's were not as vibrant as the ones he wore. She blushed unabashedly as he led her up to the front for everyone to see.

Like every volunteer, she easily became a part of the illusion and was graciously thanked by his mentor. Danny walked her back to her friends, bowing and placing a kiss of the back of her hand — just like he'd been trained.

"_Always keep them coming back for more,_" his mentor told him the very first day of his training. "_Flatter your audience and, in return, they flatter you. It's how we make a living._"

At first, he was very uncomfortable with it and then he slowly grew used to doing little things, like acting like a gentleman and showing the female visitors that there was a such thing as chivalry in this day and age — and it all was at the circus. It was all very silly, in his opinion, but then again he never understood the female mind.

The first show and the second show went off without a hitch, as always, and then Danny was free to wander around for some time as himself.

"You look really weird like that," Kwan said as Danny carefully plucked off the wig and took out the contacts. "It's like you're a phantom or something."

"Well, 'Phantom' is my stage name," he said, rolling his once again blue eyes.

"You also become a different person dressed as that," Tucker said, pointing out something Danny had only begun to notice a few weeks ago. "You're more confident. There's something more… _**devious**_ in your eyes. It's like you're pretending to be someone else."

"Well, it's because I _**look**_ like someone else. I don't look like the Danny I see everyday in the mirror. I don't look like that scrawny little kid who used to get picked on by those idiots in the strongmen tent. People sort of respect me more as the assistant to an illusionist than they did if I was a clown."

"You don't look like a Fenton, you mean." Kwan said.

Danny nodded. He wasn't _**ashamed**_ of his family — per say —, he was very proud of them, honestly, but… his father and mother took the circus life a little too seriously. He was very sure that if they didn't work in the circus they would be doing something else that was completely insane — like hunting ghosts or something. Now _**that**_ would be crazy.

"So," he said, "we have a couple of hours to kill before Kwan has to get ready for tonight's show. What should we do? Go on some rides? Make fun of some people?"

"How about we help you finish up those scripts that you've got laying around?" Tucker said.

Danny groaned. He was really hoping to put that off until tomorrow, when they started traveling again. But, he supposed, he could come up with a new idea on the road. He was bound to think of something soon enough.

"Alright," he said, giving in. "Fine. I probably need help editing a couple of scenes anyway. Now, get out so I can finish getting changed."

He shooed them out and quickly changed into the outfit he wore earlier, a T-shirt with some jeans.

He ruffled up his hair after taking off the wig cap — which probably would need to be replaced soon, he decided as he scribbled up a note on a Post-It for his sister — and grabbed the screenplays that needed some work done.

He tacked the Post-It to the corkboard on his sister's door and joined his friends at the kitchen table. He tossed the screenplays down and let them look the sheets of paper over.

They would question something from time to time, jotting down notes in the margins. Eventually, Tucker and Kwan switched off, repeating the process again and sometimes disagreeing with one another's notes. The whole ordeal needed to be recorded and posted online somewhere for everyone to see because it really was that funny.

* * *

><p>It wasn't long until they finished up and Kwan had to go get ready for the evening performance. Tucker headed off not long after. The animals had to get ready, too, and Tucker was their caretaker. Danny offered to help but he was rejected.<p>

"Just polish these up and you'll be good." his friend said. "I'll see you around midnight."

Danny sighed. There wasn't much he could do. The rides closed down for the hour and a half the performance lasted, and the fair grounds were pretty much abandoned.

"Huh," he said, picking up his new notebook and thinking of Tucker's earlier idea. "Might be a great opening scene for my next screenplay."

He began to jot down the opening shot notes.

_FADE IN._

_EXT. UNNAMED CIRCUS. NIGHT._

_JULIA —_

Did he like that name? Not particularly, but it was one he could work with for the time being.

_JULIA walks down an empty avenue of tents. She is carrying a crowbar and looks frightened and disheveled. She is being hunted by the murderer._

He stopped there and smiled. Yes, _**that**_ a great way to open a film. A murder at a circus? Hardly even heard of! Well, he had never actually _**heard**_ of anyone doing anything similar within the past twenty or so years.

He carried on with the scene, happily writing the murder sequence. Now, where would a murderer put a body if they worked in the circus? Especially since they would not want anyone to know just who killed a person. He hummed and decided to look around the circus grounds. Perhaps he would see something out and about.

He gathered what he needed — the notebook, a mechanical pencil, his phone, his set of RV keys, and a flashlight — and headed out to explore. The circus was full of all sorts of wonderful delights, especially to those who wanted to make noir films.

He quickly locked up and went on his way. He found plenty of wonderful places to hide dead bodies but none that wouldn't say that a cirky was the murderer. He stopped near the main entrance of the performance tent and looked down the wide lane. Beyond the bright lights, calliope, and delicious smells, he could make out the outline of a forest that blocked the circus off from the rest of the town they were stationed near — a suburb somewhere south of Nashville, if he remembered correctly.

A forest was always a good place to hide a body, that and no one would _**really**_ suspect a cirky. It was too general of a space. Too many people had access to it. It was perfect. Now, was there any place special in _**that**_ particular forest that he could use as inspiration? Of course there would be! It's a forest, not an empty room. Although, that would be an interesting twist for another screenplay…

Danny headed out the main gates, waving to the man working in the ticket booth who had been hired a few months ago.

"Where you going?" he said when he saw the young man.

"I'm going out to explore that forest for a little bit," Danny said

"Working on a new screenplay?"

"Set in a circus."

"Sounds good to me. When will it be premiering?"

"No idea. I have to find a heroine first. Maybe someone like Ava Gardner or Dana Andrews. A blonde, like Hitchcock. Or maybe I should do a brunette… I'll find someone somewhere."

"Well, good luck!"

Danny nodded and headed out. He doubted he needed the luck but it was always nice to hear instead of "break a leg." Artists and actors were such superstitious people. He never understood it. Then again, he wasn't really an artist or an actor, he was a director and a writer. He was in control and he had to be if he wanted to be someone.

The road leading to the forest was made of gravel and mostly a parking lot, filled by gillies' cars. There were so many of them… There always were.

It didn't take him long to make it to his destination but Danny soon missed the sound of the crunching gravel under his feet. It had been a comforting sound, something that told him that no one was following him.

He held back a snort. He was starting to sound like his sister after they watched one too many noir films in one evening. Shaking the thought off, he ducked under the leaves, batting away branches and wielding his flashlight with the other. A forest was a creepy place, he decided, and absolutely _**perfect**_ for finding a corpse in. Especially this one.

His foot caught on a tree root and he tripped, landing with a thump on the ground. Grumbling he swung the light back at the offensive thing. It was oddly pale and it looked a little bloated, popping out of a stream like that.

He stood up, dusting himself off, and looked back at the root.

"That's…" he said, gaping down at what he saw. "That's… that's a dead body."

* * *

><p><strong>Author stuff cont'd: Well, I certainly know how to kick off a story. As I said, my little turtle doves, this was a murder mystery. If you have any questions, feel free to contact me here or on my tumblr — icyandthefrostbites. I'm a friendly person and open to any and all comments and critiques, and always willing to talk about random things.<strong>

**With love,  
>iOc<strong>

**P.S.: I'll be posting this on AO3 later tonight when I have more free time. For the time being, I'm posting this from my phone. Just because I can.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author stuff: This is the first chapter I'm posting live from my math class! ...not really something to get excited about, because it's math, but because my school has great wifi connection in the Fine Arts Buildings. (Why math classes are held in the FAB, I have no idea... but I'm highly amused that it spells "fab.")**

**Anyway, my mom had a weird dream last night. She dreamed that she found a dead body in our deep freezer. I am now, I admit, terrified to look in said freezer. Think I'm just going to curl up on the floor and pretend that, you know, there are no bodies in my freezer. (Dear god, if there is...)**

**I haven't gotten around to responding to everyone quite yet, there's one or two I have yet to thank. I'll get to you sometime later today. Promise.**

**Here is the second chapter. Enjoy, my lovelies.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Danny Phantom_. All legal rights belong to Nickelodeon and Butch Hartman.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Court of Stripes<strong>

**by iOc**

**Chapter 2**

_**Saturday, 19 October 2013**_

"Why are you all alone in here?"

Danny jumped, turning to see his older sister walk towards him. She was wearing one of his hoodies — again — and looked a little perturbed by their surroundings. The Hall of Mirrors tended to weird people out. Their reflections bouncing of mirrors on to be reflected in another. Then, the image further reflected in the first one, going back and forth until all that was left was black. The Silent Reaper Room, in particular, was notorious for this.

He didn't answer his sister's question, instead he turned back to the spot he had been scraping on the metal floor. It was an odd brown hue and was clumped in one spot. It was obvious that this area hadn't been cleaned as well as anyone thought.

His sister sat down next to him. She grabbed his hand, took out a wet nap, and cleaned his fingers and palm. She was rather meticulous, making sure to get any dried clumps of the stain from under his nails.

"The way you're acting is perfectly normal for someone who found a murdered person." she said, tucking her head between his jawbone and his collarbone. He would normally shake her off, but her warmth was welcoming and comforting. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but if you at least want to scream or cry, I'll listen. That helps, you know."

"I never knew the girl who was killed," he said. "It shouldn't bug me like this."

"Seeing a body like that is very traumatic."

He nodded, resting his head against her's and wrapping his arms around her. The two of them hadn't spent much time together since she decided to leave their family's circus act, a few years before he himself decided to become the illusionist's assistant. That was a very long time.

The only time they really saw each other was at breakfast and the end of the day, not to mention when they traveled. But usually, no more than three hours in a single day.

Right now, he was glad that the circus owner had given her some time off to spend it however she liked. The fact that she went looking and found him during her free time said how much they truly missed one another — how much she knew that he needed her.

"So, what's so special about this place?" she said, wrapping her arms around his stomach.

"I met a girl around my age in here when I was thirteen," he said. "It was… nice, you know? To get to see someone you can bond with outside of the circus. She was scared and lost. She was trying not to cry and no one was helping her. I led her out of here and we got caramel corn. She told me how she lost her parents."

"Most parents won't even come here with preteen like that, most let them wander aimlessly. Wonder what they were thinking."

He shrugged. He honestly didn't know. But, he did remember the girl. She had the biggest, saddest eyes with the most unusual color. He could still remember how her crocodile tears stained his favorite T-shirt — he had been pretty upset about that — and how they brightened at the caramel corn.

He couldn't help but smile at that memory.

"Now, the real reason I came looking for you," she said, disentangling herself from him. "Clockwork has everyone gathering in the performance tent. He won't start until everyone's there."

He sighed and stood up, wincing at the stiff muscles that twitched at the sudden movement. He stretched and enjoyed the feeling. He always liked stretching, even when he was working to become a clown.

He turned his thoughts towards Clockwork — the circus's owner for… well, it felt like _**forever**_. The man rarely ever called them together once their season started. Normally, he had Freakshow gather the performers and the other employees and deliver the message. It must have been very important in order for him to do it this time.

"Alright," he said. "Let's go. I don't want to hold everyone else up."

* * *

><p>When Danny and his sister arrived at the main tent, they found everyone chatting in hushed voices. No doubt in his mind that they were wondering why Clockwork had called them all in at such a weird hour. Almost all meetings were held in the morning or the evening, <em>never<em> in the middle of the day. It completely threw off the rehearsal schedule.

He sat down between his sister and Dorothea — or Dora, as she preferred to be called by other cirkies. She and her brother were two of the fire artists; they ate, breathed, and danced with fire. They had been christened the "Dragons" of _Le Cirque de Fantômes_.

She always seemed like a nice woman to be around — although she was terribly quiet — but she smiled shyly at him when he took his seat. He returned the favor for a smile of his own, causing a blush to rise rather attractively across her features.

Her brother was not as nice, sadly. Everyone knew not to anger Aragorn. Quickly, to mend his mistakes, Dory turned her attention back to her brother.

"You were saying something about our next performance, correct?" she said, batting her eyes at him. That always seemed to work on him.

Danny rolled his eyes. Brothers were suckers for their sisters, no matter if they were older or younger.

Before anyone could say anything else, silence took over. The entire circus had a great respect for its owner. The man had been in charge of it for over fifty years and he was still going strong.

When Clockwork entered, everyone shut their mouths immediately after they spotted him. They waited patiently for him to stop in front of them, many holding their breath.

"Welcome, everyone," he said, smiling at them. His eyes scanned over each and every face, recognizing each one. They stopped on Danny a little longer than the rest.

Danny felt his heart plummet to the ground beneath his feet. Something was terribly wrong. Was he going to be kicked out of the circus for finding the body of the dead girl? Was his family going to be forced to follow him? Was his sister going to be fired from her position? He really hoped none of those were true.

"As you recall, last week, a member of our own discovered the body of a missing girl," Clockwork said. "Despite the fact there is a rule against our performers leaving the grounds during a performance — even if they are not a part of it — I would like it to be known that the girl's family has declared him a hero. Daniel, if you will, please stand up."

His heart jumped to his throat and he clamped down hard on the armrests of the chair he sat in. With a pat on the shoulder from his sister — as well as an encouraging look — he stood on shaky legs.

His fellow cirkies applauded, his father cheering the loudest and his mother cooing at him. They were really the most _**embarrassing**_ parents anyone could ask for.

"Thank you, Daniel," Clockwork said, permitting him to reclaim his seat — which he did hastily. "They called me and asked if they could visit the circus, in order to thank Daniel properly. I invited them to spend the day here and to stay all day long. Make them feel welcome and be at your best."

Everyone nodded and clapped. They would do better than their best, Danny knew. Honoring someone's dead one was something they all never wished upon anyone else. The recent death of one of their own still fresh in their minds.

"There is more," the circus owner said. "I am beginning to feel my age. My body is growing tired of wandering from town to town and city to city. I have not ever lived a settled life but I find myself wanting for one. I will be leaving you all soon."

Everyone was silent for a moment but then someone cried out:

"You can't!"

And then everyone joined in. The cacophony of voices bounced off the canvas roof and walls, only increasing in volume from all the metal that held the tent up.

Danny sunk in his chair. Clockwork was retiring? It made sense, somewhat. He had been running this circus for a very long time, but… but it felt as if the man could go on forever running things — as if her were _**timeless**_. He wondered who was going to take over.

The man raised his hand and everyone quieted down.

"I will not be leaving you to fend for yourselves," he said. "At the end of this season, I will choose my successor and train them the following season. After that, the circus will be in their hands."

He looked around again, looking at everyone's faces with a sad smile. He nodded, and stood less straight.

"That is all," he said, letting them know the meeting was officially over.

He walked out, hobbling slightly — why hadn't Danny noticed that before? — and disappeared behind the door. No one moved from their seats for several moments. Freakshow was the first to do anything.

"Everyone get back to work." the odd man said. "There is a lot of work to be done for tomorrow's show. Opening night is always one of our biggest sell outs and no doubt this town could use a circus. I believe our aerialists were hard at work when the meeting was announced. You ladies had twenty more minutes. Everyone else, the allotted schedule will be pushed back for the evening and it will return to normal tomorrow morning. I expect everyone to be ready by noon. Dismissed."

Everyone scuttled back to their rehearsals — which would pick up again in a matter of minutes. Danny bumped into one of the aerialists as he made his way out of the seats.

"Watch it, dipstick," she said, her lips curling into a snarl. "You may have found that girl but that doesn't mean you're actually a hero or anything."

"I know," he said, sighing. "Hey, Ember?"

"What, dogface?"

"Remember to smile during your performance. The audience doesn't want to see that ugly mug of yours get any uglier."

She swatted at him, missing by more than a foot. There was a playful glint in her eyes despite the fierce look on her face. They two of them had a rather interesting relationship. They shot insults and threatened to kill one another from time to time — usually when he was dressed as Phantom — but at any other time they were friends who simply teased one another.

"I'll get you for that, you brat!" she said, shaking her fist at him.

"Some other time," he said back at her as he jogged out of the tent. She shouted a retort but he didn't hear it. He was already too far gone.

* * *

><p>Danny found himself wandering the circus grounds and, before he could even realize where he had stopped, entered an all too familiar tent. He took the front guest entrance for once — instead of coming in through backstage, as he was accustomed to. His mentor, Vladimir Masters, was nowhere to be seen.<p>

He sat in one of the chairs in the neatly lined rows in front of a low stage. Three poles total held up the tent in the house seating — another three were backstage. The yellow and red stripes cast an amber glow about the tent, making everything seem warmer, much more magical. Vlad had not chosen those specific colors — they had been Clockwork's doing when Vlad first joined them all those years ago — but he seemed to work around them just fine in his act. Their act, Danny reminded himself.

He remembered the first day Vlad asked Danny to be his assistant. Danny had flat out refused, wanting to keep a part in the clown act. But, as he got older, he was drawn into it and somehow became integrated into the illusion…

Having enough of just sitting around, he headed backstage, peeking around the flap to see if Vlad was back there or not. It was still empty.

Most of their props were neatly lined up on two foldup tables, labels written in a neat print on yellow tape in front. Vlad had put them there years ago so Danny would know what they needed and when.

There were other things, too, packed away in plastic bins for easy storage when traveling — though most of those bins were empty due to the props being on the aforementioned tables. But there were other things, mostly Vlad's more personal thing that he felt comfortable leaving laying around. Like the wooden chest right next to the make-up table.

The chest was made of cedar and had ornate interwoven knot-like patterns strewn about — Danny was pretty sure they were of Celtic origin. The chest housed a dagger, one that he had seen only a handful of times before. It had been rather plain, from what he could recall. But Vlad had been known to add it to the pile in poker games he and several of the others would play at night sometimes.

He went to lift the lid, to inspect the dagger and see if it was still there — he felt oddly drawn to it — but the lock was tight. He rattled it around, straining his ears for some noise, but… nothing.

"It would be in your best interest," a voice from behind him, "if you didn't touch my things."

Danny turned —setting the chest down — and turned his face away, ashamed. Vlad stood in the door flap, arms crossed and nose pointed upward, to snub him.

"Sorry," he said to his feet. He could feel the back of his neck and ears heating up.

"No harm was done, I'm sure, Daniel. Now, why don't you… run along and go play. I'm not up to a rehearsal today."

Danny blinked, surprised. Vlad _**never**_ canceled a rehearsal unless one of them was mortally ill — or, really, infected with the flu or some other virus. But that didn't mean he wasn't please about it.

"Yeah," he said, smiling. "Sure. Bye, Vlad. See you tomorrow."

* * *

><p>His sister caught up with him later that day, in her arms a heavy looking box. She set it down in front of him, right on top of the notebook she had given him.<p>

"I need your help," she said. "I got to post up all these fliers around town."

"What about the people who normally help you?" he said.

"They bailed on me. New town, new places to explore, new women to harass at bars…"

He wrinkled his nose at the last one. Circus employees really were horn dogs. He remembered overhearing a conversation once. One man claimed to have a woman in every city and town they ever visited, not to forget that there were several kids he never had to pay alimony for. He never understood it.

"And why me?" he said, cocking a brow.

"You're the only one I trust not to run off and do something stupid. So, please? As a favor to you best older sister ever?"

"You're my only older sister ever."

"_**Please**_."

He sighed, nodding. His sister cheered and wrapped her arms around his neck and pulling him into an awkward embrace.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you, thank you, _**thank you**_. You have no idea how much it means to me. I'll pay you back somehow. I promise."

"Whatever," he said.

"Okay, come on."

"What? Now?"

"Yes, _**now**_. I want to make sure there are no spots that the advance might have missed. Besides, this way you can meet the audience at a more personal level. You won't be all dressed up and out of your comfort zone."

Danny frowned. He did not like where this was going, not at all. But he no longer had a say in the matter, his sister had tugged him up and out the door before he could do anything else.

* * *

><p>The town they were in — whatever it was called — was a relatively average one. The buildings looked like something out of the movies — more modern ones, not his favorites of course. People went about their business, but from time to time someone would look up at the brightly colored van.<p>

In all honesty, Danny was embarrassed to be seen in the van. His parents had painted it - the mural on the sides were surprisingly good — and Clockwork had approved of it for his sister's use.

His sister parked in front of a building made of some sort of white stone and got out. He trailed her, reluctantly. He watched as she grabbed a decent sized pile of flyers. She handed them to him and gestured for him to follow her. They went inside the white stone building. Danny looked around. The ceiling was high and perfect for the trapeze and aerialists. The hall they were in was long and could undoubtedly seat many people. He would enjoy performing in this building, if he ever got the chance.

"Come on, Danny," his sister said, heading off to the left of the main doors. She waited for him to catch up before moving on.

They stopped in front of a desk, a woman filing her nails behind it. She looked up at the siblings and she raised a brow.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"Yes. Hi, I'm Jazz Fenton," Danny's sister said. "I believe we spoke on the phone? I'm here to deliver some flyers for _De Cirque le Fantôme_. The mayor said he wanted some."

The woman behind the desk lit up.

"Oh, good!" she said. "We were worried that you weren't going to make it. I remember the last time your circus came to Amity. It was so long ago! I was still a teenager — _**ha**_! You have the flyers?"

She looked between Danny and his sister excitedly. She spotted the pile in his arms and took them. She quickly reviewed the schedule and smiled.

"The mayor is making his whole committee attend," she said, babbling away. "We don't get many circuses around here. We were so glad to hear that you were returning — the mayor especially."

"Should I put any times down for reserved seats?" Jazz said.

"Oh, yes. I think we'd all be very upset if we didn't get good seats."

"I'll make sure that they're the best in the house."

"Good. You still have my number? Wonderful! Maybe I'll see you at the show!"

Jazz smiled and waved, turning around to leave. Danny stood there, confused for a second. He was very unsure of what was going on. He trailed after his sister, back to the van. She pulled out a box and handed it to him, pulling one out for herself.

"Come on, we still have a lot of work to do." she said. "You don't have to be back until tonight, right? Then you won't be missed by anyone important."

He frowned. He knew that Jazz was a busy person but he never knew the extent of it. And delivering flyers to a town's mayor? That was highly unusual. Normally, the advance would take care of such things.

"What's with that look?" she said.

"Nothing, just…" he said, trailing off. "Why are you doing advance work?"

"It all depends on the town. For cities, we have no problem drawing in customers. Towns like this? Not really a big problem but we still need the publicity. Amity Park, the last time we were here, was one of our most profitable venues. Clockwork's really hoping to have the same success again."

"If it was so profitable, why isn't it on our annual schedule?"

She shrugged, signaling that she had no answer. A lot of what the owner did was still a mystery to most of the circus. He generally kept himself detached from it all, keeping the show going from behind a figurative curtain. He was the puppet master and he had kept the circus going through the hard times.

And yet, he was so loved by everyone who worked for him. He kept in touch with previous acts and only introduced new ones if he felt that there was a serious problem with any of the current ones. His family had been born circus for as long as anyone could remember. For him to just up and leave his lifelong home like he was, it would be a devastating blow to their whole world.

He shook his head, trying to forget the news he received that day. His sister needed his help at the moment and he had no choice.

"So," he said, "what do we do first?"

Jazz directed him to several businesses around town square, having him deliver a pile or two to them. The owners or managers, he wasn't sure who they were, greeted him warmly and expressed great interest in the circus. Many of them vowed to make it sometime during the upcoming two weeks.

* * *

><p>A little over two hours passed and Danny finally finished emptying his third box. Jazz was waiting for him on the van. She was snacking on an ice cream cone.<p>

"Where did you get that?" he said.

"The local Dairy Knight," she said. She offered it up to him. "Want a bite?"

"No thanks. It has 'sister germs' on it."

She snorted as he sat on the bumper with her.

"So, do we have anything else to do or are we safe to go home?" he said, looking at the statue in the center of town square. It was an ugly mass of concrete and metal, a permanent scar on an otherwise beautiful spot.

"Don't know. Did you need anything from SmileMart or Mark'd?"

"Not that I can think of."

She nodded and they returned to silence.

Danny watched as people walked by, peeking at them interestedly but never stopping to chat with them. Everyone kept a distance.

He knew what they thought of them. They were circus freaks to the outside world. They weren't normal — not that he clung to the notion of wanting to be like them. Having one home in a permanent spot at all times was… it wasn't what he wanted. He liked moving around and meeting new people. It was like his life was like a movie director's — now _**that**_ would be wonderful. But he knew he would never have the life of a movie director. His was bound to the circus. It was all he ever knew and all he would ever want to do.

Sighing, he turned his thoughts away from his life to watch the ones of others surrounding him. Opposite the statue from them, a girl about his age with a bullhorn and an old milk crate under her arm stopped. She looked around before setting down the crate and stepping up on it.

"Do you know how many animals die in a circus every year?" she said, her voice crackling through the bullhorn. "Approximately two million!"

"Not this again," Jazz said, rolling her eyes. When she saw her brother's confused look, she explained. "It seems everywhere we go, there's always someone from PETA protesting how we take care of the animals."

"But… but Tucker takes amazing care of the animals." he said, confused. "He always sends for a vet if one of them is injured or sick. He makes sure they get enough exercise every day. He follows all the guidelines of the AWA. He feeds them the appropriate amount of food… I don't think he'd let anyone in the circus hurt them if they tried."

"Yeah, well not every animal caretaker in a circus is a great as Tucker and not every owner is like Clockwork. We're with a very fortunate circus. Remember that, Danny."

He nodded, listening to the girl rave on. She had a rather annoying, self-righteous tone to her voice. That and she was skinny, abnormally so — probably from a meat-free diet, considering many facts about her speech. And she was on the short side. He doubted that she was as tall as him, standing on the crate as she was.

He was fairly tempted to stalk on over and set her straight. Actually, that didn't sound half bad… He peeked over at his sister, who was finishing off the ice cream cone. Good, she wouldn't have anything to throw at him for being an idiot — or some other insult, she was full of them. He walked over and gently tugged the bullhorn away from her face, interrupting her. She tried to tug it back up but he held her wrist down firmly.

"I could charge you with assault, you know," the girl said, glaring at him.

Her eyes caught him off guard. They were a violent hue of violet. For several moments he wasn't sure how to respond. He normally wasn't this cocky or confident, unless he was dressed as Phantom.

"Uh," he said, still staring in her eyes. "I, uh, just wanted to, um, talk."

Her eyes softened but her posture remained the same.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, the, uh, things you're saying about the, er, circus they aren't true."

"And you know _**how**_?"

"My friend, you see, he's the, um, caretaker for the animals," he said.

Her eyebrows shot up. She blinked at him and her frown deepened.

"You work for the circus." It wasn't a question.

"For twelve generations."

She openly gaped at him.

"If… if you want to see it, uh, first hand," he said, "you're welcome to, er, come tomorrow. I could, um, get you free tickets."

"Is this the way you try to impress girls in towns?" she said slyly, her sculpted eyebrows arching upward.

Danny felt heat rise to his cheeks, ears, and neck. He _hated_ blushing, and here was a girl making him, intentionally. Oh, so intentionally. He could tell by the smirk on her face — a face that wasn't unattractive, he noted.

She laughed, her whole body trembling with it. She politely covered her mouth with the back of her hand, something few modern women did. It was very Old World, he remembered his father saying once.

"So, you say you can get me a free ticket to check out this carnival —"

"Circus, not a carnival. A carnival doesn't have the performances that a circus has."

"Circus, then. You can get me a ticket, but how about tickets for my friends?"

"I could," he said. "You give me your, um, name and how many of your, er, friends are coming, I'll leave it with one of the ticket holders and you can, uh, pick them up when you, um, get there."

She smirked, hopping off her crate.

He was right, she didn't even come up to his clavicle. What a petite girl. She was amusingly short — he could use her head as an armrest!

He almost laughed at the thought, but he quickly reconsidered it. Why anger the girl? She had really done nothing wrong, just misjudged the way a part of the circus was run.

"Here," she said, holding out a little card that she had dug out from her pocket. It was a business card with the number three pristinely written on it in green ink. "Just me and two of my roommates. The other three girls we don't really care for, though I don't doubt they'll be there."

She said the last part with some displeasure, he noticed. He wondered what happened between her and her three other roommates. But they were girls and girls tended to hold grudges for the most obscure things.

He took the card and examined it.

_Samantha Manson  
>Veterinary Major at Amity Park State University<br>and Environmentalist.  
>wildcatmanson . tumblr . com<em>

_(555)XXX-XXXX_

It looked very professional. He wondered why she had them made. Maybe it was a requirement at her school? Quite possible. But then again, he didn't know. He never attended a normal school, just the one roomed classroom that the circus had for the minors.

"See you tomorrow," the girl — Samantha — said, drawing him from his thoughts. She wiggled her fingers, partially holding the bullhorn with the same hand and the crate in the other.

He gaped after her. She disappeared behind a corner.

"She just got free tickets off you, didn't she?" Jazz said, coming over to join him.

"Yeah," he said.

"You really are a sucker for a pretty face, aren't you, little brother?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author stuff cont'd: And so, Sam appears. Her introduction was planned fairly early into the plotting period. I knew how that scene was going to play out long before it happened.<strong>

**So, one thing I thought was interesting was Danny's response to Emma's body. Most people never think about the psychological reprocussions of finding a corpse. I did. Most people just carry on normally afterwards, but most people don't find bodies like Emma's. So, Danny is a special case. Thus, some psychological trauma and sense of duty.**

**And Clockwork is retiring? What? **

**Until tomorrow, then.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author stuff: I'm running a little late in posting this today. Whoopsie. But it's up before the day is over, so that's fine. And I still haven't gotten around to thanking everyone yet. Well, I'm posting from my computer today, so onto my inbox!**

**...and then I must go play beta for someone... Editing is so much fun.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Danny Phantom_. All legal rights belong to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Court of Stripes<strong>

**by iOc**

**Chapter 3**

_**Saturday, 19 October 2013**_

"You want me to place aside _**how**_ many tickets?" Gregory McKool said, his eyebrows shooting up to his receding hairline.

"Just three," Danny said.

"Oh, good."

"How many did you _**think**_ I said?"

"…Thirty."

Danny smacked his forehead with his hand, emanating a loud clap. He winced at the pain, regretting the compulsion. He really needed to work on stopping that. He delicately fingered the sore spot.

"I can do just three," Gregory said, punching in a number combination. "The boss-man was just going to give away some freebies tomorrow to get the seats filled — publicity and whatnot."

"I don't think we'll need it much," Danny said. "The majority of the town seemed excited to hear that the circus was in town. You wouldn't know how long it's been since we've been here, do you?"

"Hope, sorry, kid. I joined last year. Needed to support the family somehow. Besides that, my daughter is learning to tumble from the pros. The wife doesn't seem to mind. She always wanted to travel."

Danny nodded, half listening to the man ramble on.

"So, the tickets…?"

"Huh? Oh, right," the ticket holder said. "Three, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Under the name… Samantha Manson."

He watched as Gregory wrote the name neatly down on an envelope and place it in an open slot in a folder. He knew that those folders were arranged alphabetically and placed in a safe shelf under the cash register.

"Know what I should watch for?" Gregory said.

"A Julia Adams or a dark-haired Jane Greer — with exceptionally pretty eyes."

The older man's eyebrows shot up again and then furrowed.

"I have no idea who those woman are."

"Actresses from talkies — black and white films. Don't worry about it. When you see her tomorrow, you'll know who she is. She's unmistakable."

"You going to be like your dad?"

This time, it was Danny who furrowed his brow.

"What do you mean?" he said. Gregory shook his head and waved it off.

"Whatever — I'll see her when I see her," the man said. "You should probably head off to practice soon. Vlad will hold you back an extra hour if you're late again."

Danny checked the clock on his phone and cursed. He said his farewells and dashed off in the direction of the illusionist's tent. It wasn't too hard to find, located near the main tent, but trying to dodge cirky kids and others doing their job was a chore. He stumbled in, nearly bumping into someone as he did.

"Sorry," he said hurriedly, stepping back and spinning so he would dodge the person completely. Something about the tent made him light of his feet. When he stopped his turning, he saw who he almost crashed into. Freakshow.

"Well, Mr. Fenton," the ringmaster said through clenched teeth. It was clear that he was upset about something. He looked like he was about to say something then stopped himself.

"Ah, Daniel," the illusionist said from inside the tent. He poked his head out, smiling. "I was just about to send someone out to look for you."

"Jazz asked me to help with publicity," Danny said, watching Freakshow storm off. "I just got back a couple of minutes ago. I didn't realize how late it was. I'm not late, am I?"

"Less than a minute. Shall we get started?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sunday, 20 October 2013<strong>_

Danny nervously paced back and forth. He had no reason to be nervous - why should he? He had done this act many times before. But it felt as if something was on the line with this one. Like his destiny was about to change.

That was ridiculous. _**Destiny**_. The only one in the circus who honestly believed in that was Desiree — and that was just because she was the resident fortune teller who had a lot of experience with it. Though, he doubted her own belief at times.

He didn't believe in destiny — most people didn't — but he had certain rituals he did before his act with Vlad. Everyone in the circus had them. Tucker would play patty cake with one of his fellow acrobats and then have a banana. Dora played her viola a half-hour before the show started. Her brother would play around with his fire batons. Skulker — the knife thrower — would read a book. Danny, himself, stretched and had a watermelon Jolly Rancher.

He wanted to go check the ticket booth to see if Miss Manson — _**was**_ she even a "Miss?" She could be married for all he knew! — had picked up the three tickets he reserved for her. He knew that she said that she would be here but he couldn't help but worry. He felt strangely worried that she wouldn't make it.

He shook his head. He was being ridiculous. She would be in the audience in good seats for the main show. She might make it to his performance, if she got here early enough. He really hoped that she would.

Vlad snapped him out of his thoughts by patting him on the shoulder. Even after all of these years, he still couldn't get used to the affection that the man bestowed upon him. It was… _**creepy**_. And that was saying it in the nicest sense.

"Are you ready, m'boy?" he said, smiling.

"Not really, no," Danny admitted. "I'm a little nervous."

"Why are you nervous? You've done this show many times before."

"I met someone in town who said that she would try to be here today."

"Ah," Vlad said, knowingly. "A pretty face to ignite the heart's desire. You are finally growing up, Daniel."

"I've liked girls before. Like Paulina."

"Paulina is nothing more than a showgirl now. She is… beneath you — as is this girl from the town. She is to be nothing more than a fling. We don't need anyone else like your mother wandering around. The sawdust in our veins is thinning and becoming tainted. Keep things pure, Daniel. Marry a girl within the circus."

Danny rolled his eyes. He'd gotten this lecture many times before. Flings only with people outside of the circus, mate and marry within. Their world was a dying one and finding families like his own were rare breeds amongst everything else. Really, none of it made much sense to him but to each his own, as they say.

"Now, we have a show to do," Vlad said, clapping his hands together. "Should we let them in?"

Danny nodded and opened the flap of the tent, welcoming the waiting audience inside. He held in a chuckle as he saw their reactions to his appearance. Well, he most certainly did _not_ look like a normal person. He looked more like a character out of those backwards girly comics Jazz used to read — the ones from Japan or China or Korea, he could never tell which.

Smiling, he eyed everyone who came in. He didn't see the face he had hoped for, but he did see a group of three young women enter and look at him curiously. They muttered something to one another, looked at him, muttered again, and giggled — though one seemed a little more reluctant than the other two. He would never understand the opposite sex.

When all of the seats were filled, he returned to the front and stood poised next to Vlad. They went about their routines, tricks with flair and pizzazz, illusions at their finest, and the ever favorite audience participation.

Danny picked out one of the young women from the giggly trio. He lead her up front. She was wearing a wig and contacts, he noted. He wondered why she was protecting her identity but he thought nothing further on it.

Vlad did his usual thing, the white wigged young man only stepping in when he was needed — which was unusually often for the performance. But they ended as they usually did, big and flashy.

They audience clapped and cheered politely, having enjoyed the hour long entertainment. A few asked for pictures, to which they obliged, and others asked questions — those were usually the children with wide, bright eyes and a piqued interest.

He noted that the trio of women stood in back, waiting for everyone else to leave. All three of them looked like they belonged to the circus themselves, wearing ridiculous costumes. He didn't blame them for wanting to dress up. It was fun to play pretend most times. Being someone else for a short while — and hiding under something that you're not — is always an interesting experience.

Two of the girls were pushing one of the others forward. The poor girl looked the most normal of the trio, wearing a green and white polka dotted dress. She glared back at them and approached him shyly.

"Hi," she said in a sweet voice.

"Hello," he replied even sweeter. He added a gentle smile for good measure.

One of the girls behind her giggled, while her other friend snorted obnoxiously. The girl in front of him was clearly flustered, for she immediately looked down at her shoes - they were stark white, still untainted from the grass and mud.

"I…" she said, trying to form a sentence. "I…"

"Yes?"

"I'm looking for someone. He was in town yesterday."

"There were a lot of people in town yesterday."

"I… I know that. But, um…"

"Miss, you are going to have to be more precise," he said, tapping her on the nose.

She blinked, looking down at the tip where he touched her. The cross-eyed look was rather cute, he found. It was an adorable attribute for a sweet young lady such as herself.

"You see, he works here," she said, continuing. "He was in town yesterday, putting out flyers and he reserved some tickets for me and my friends."

She gestured to the two girls behind her. Who waved — well one waved rather enthusiastically while the other… not so much.

"And what did this young man look like?" Vlad said, very annoyed.

"He was about this tall," she raised up in her tiptoes and held her hand at about Danny's height, if just a little short. "He had dark hair and blue eyes. I never got his name…"

He blinked down at the girl and laughed. She was looking for him! Though, she wasn't as amused by this revelation as he was.

"I believe that you're looking for me," he said, taking of the wig and the cap that held his hair in place.

She looked a little started, but she smiled.

"Is it really him, Sammy?" one of the girls behind her asked.

"Hm…" she said, cocking her head to the side. "I believe so. He's wearing contacts, so… yeah. Possibly."

"Sammy?" he said teasingly, poking her arm.

She swatted his arm — rather painfully, he might add — but there was a playful glint in her eyes.

"I see you're wearing a wig, too."

"Contacts as well. I had to try to look somewhat normal wandering around with those two." She jabbed her thumb back at her friends, who cried out.

"I don't believe we were ever properly introduced," he said, holding out his hand. "Daniel Fenton. I go by Danny, mostly."

"Samantha Manson. Just call me Sam." She shook his hand, her grip firm.

"Okay, Sammy."

* * *

><p>He learned that Miss Manson's friends were named Valerie Gray (a femme fatale dressed in black, white, and red) and Starlin Mooney (a creature feature in black, green, and gold.). They were an interesting group.<p>

Star was energetic and bubbly, all smiles and wide-eyed wonder. She had been the one he escorted up on stage. Valerie was tough and it took her a while to warm up to him, but she was very nice and protective of her friends. Sam… she was still a mystery to him. He could easily picture each of their roles in a noir film, except for her. Actually, the more he thought about it, the more he could see her as the lead female in the screenplay that was tucked under his mattress. He hadn't had the courage to touch the thing since that night.

Resisting the urge to shudder, he returned his attention to the girls. Sam and Star were bickering over a bag of popcorn. Valerie rolled her eyes and snatched it from the two, who cried out when their friend began to eat it.

She turned to Danny, looking him over from head to toe. He shifted nervously under her intense stare. She was…_**frightening**_, he decided. But she did seem a lot nicer than when they were first introduced.

"I like you better like this," she said. "You look normal. It suits you."

"I don't," Star said, grabbing the bag of popcorn from Valerie. "I liked him better with white hair. He was more exotic."

"He looked like that character from that movie you and Sam like."

"_Rise of the Guardians_?"

"Yeah, that one."

"It's a good movie, Val," Sam said. "You should give it a chance."

"Have you seen it, Danny?" Star said, turning all three girls' attention to him.

"Uh, no. I… I haven't been out of the circus much," he said. "I'm usually kept here on the grounds. I help out with the animals and work on my routine most of the time. It's less physical than everyone else's but Vlad's a perfectionist. If something isn't right, we'll work on it all night."

"That sucks."

"Besides, if it's a newer film, I might not be into it. I'm more of a black and white and detective film kind of guy."

"You like noir films?" Sam said, her eyebrows shooting up. She didn't seem surprised, more generally interested.

"Well, yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"That's cool. I haven't seen many but I like them. Star and Val can attest to that."

"Who says 'attest' in a sentence?" Star said, wondering aloud. "You sound like a character in a really bad mystery book. You know, the ones you have in your bookshelf."

Before Sam could retort, they were interrupted by a familiar face.

"Ah, Daniel."

Danny turned to see Clockwork with a group of people trailing after him. They were a mournful looking group, out of place in the cheery and jubilant crowd. Something about the way they carried themselves made something in his mind click. These were the family members of the girl he found.

He quickly told Sam, Val, and Star that he would try to meet back up with them later, and he approached the group. The eldest looking woman of the group, who he presumed was the mother, smiled weakly at him. One of the young men — a son? — eyed him over, while the two young women on either side of him did not meet his stare. The father stood off a bit to the side, seemingly anxious.

"This is Daniel Fenton," Clockwork said, he seemed more cheerful that he should. "Daniel this I the family of Emma L'Estrange, the poor girl you found."

"Perhaps," the mother said, "we may go somewhere more private? There may be prying ears and we do not wish for someone to overhear."

* * *

><p>After some discussion, it had been decided that they would have tea in Clockwork's work trailer. The elderly owner of <em>Le Cirque de Fantômes<em> brewed a pot the traditional way, making his guests wait while he prepared things.

Danny sat uncomfortably at the table with the family. He didn't really know why he was there. He could understand that the family wanted to thank him in some way but meeting with him was really unnecessary.

He squirmed a little in his chair, trying to get comfortable. He fiddled with his fingers in his lap, not meeting the eyes of the L'Estrange family. They seemed to have the same sentiment and ignored him as well.

Clockwork returned carrying the tray, which rattled in his hands slightly. Danny leapt to his feet, taking the tray and setting it in front of the table. He distributed the cups to each individual and filled them with an equal amount of freshly brewed tea. He had done the same thing many times before for Vlad and then the fortune teller, Desiree.

Clockwork hardly seemed surprised by his actions and nodded solemnly. He dismissed himself, saying farewell to the group. The L'Estrange family settled in their own way, one or two of them were surprised but the others did not so much as blink.

"Now then," the eldest man, Mr. L'Estrange, said, adding honey and heavy cream to his tea. "Shall we talk about why we are all here?"

Mrs. L'Estrange, sipped her prepared tea before setting it quietly back on the table. She looked directly at Danny, studying him. Her lips were pursed.

"Mr. Fenton, what do you know about our daughter?" she said.

"Not much," he said, admittedly. "Just some of the things that were broadcast over the radio. Smart, well-liked, and all that. She sounds like a nice person. I would have liked to have met her."

"But you have."

Danny's eyebrows shot up. He had? Surely he would recall meeting the dead girl. Then again, he did meet a lot of people throughout the day.

The woman procured a cell phone from her purse. It was a modern looking thing, black and touch screen. It looked like a new model to the old one his sister had with her at all times.

She tapped in a pass code and shuffled around until she found what she was looking for. She fiddled a little more before sliding the device across the table to him. The screen was vibrant and glowing brightly.

Danny picked up the phone and eyed the image. He recognized the girl immediately. Like many girls, she was dressed in a bright costume — not unlike Sam and her friends that afternoon — and the picture of her was one where she was attending the illusionist's show. To top it all off, she had been one of the girls he had chosen to be a part of the act.

He vaguely remembered that day, as well. Had she vanished the next day? Did she die on her way home? He was taken out of his thoughts by Mr. L'Estrange.

"She insisted on going to the circus," the man said, his arms folded on the table and his eyes cast down on them. "I shouldn't have let her. This wouldn't have happened."

"But she wasn't the first," the eldest L'Estrange sister said.

Danny and the family looked at her, surprised. He hadn't heard this before. More people have gone missing? When had this happened?

"Eddie, the box to your right, please put it on the table."

Edwin, the L'Estrange's son, heaved up a large box. He slid it on the flat, smooth surface of the table. He opened it when his father nodded at him.

"This box if filled with files of young women who had all attended the circus in the past and gone missing. Most of them were later found dead. Others still have yet to have any information of any kind revealed," Edwin said, plucking out a file. "I've been keeping track for many years now. Unsolved mysteries are sort of my thing — I collect articles online, mostly. I never thought…" His voice broke and he had to clear his throat. "It's one of those things you never think will hit home."

Danny watched, amazed at how many there were.

"This all started around the time our illusionist joined the troop," Edwin said, continuing on.

"You think Vlad is responsible?" Danny said, incredulously.

"The illusionist? We think he might know something about it."

"And that is where you come in," Mrs. L'Estrange said.

"Me?" he said. He scanned all of the faces in the room. Each one was morose. "How do I fit in to all of this… mess?"

"You are the illusionist's assistant, correct?"

"Well… _**yes**_, but —"

"You have full access to all of his equipment, do you not?"

"I do, but —"

"You know his schedule, correct?"

"For the most part, but —"

"There you go. You have direct access to him and everything we need to prove that he is the guilty party."

"Now, hang on a second!" Danny said, standing up and slamming his palms on the table. He held back a wince. "What makes you think that I'll agree to this?"

"You had direct contact with the missing and deceased girls," the youngest of the L'Estrange daughters said. "The illusionist could say that you did it, that you killed them all. You _**did**_ find out sister." She stopped there, to presumably swallow the lump in her throat that caused her voice to crack. When she continued, her eyes were glazed and tears were ready to trail down her cheeks. "And you did pick each girl out, individually."

"Only starting less than ten years ago."

"You could still be easily blamed," Mrs. L'Estrange said. "We all want the same thing: Justice."

"Why would I want justice?"

They were silent for a moment, the only sound the ticking of a clock just outside the closed office door and their heavy breathing. The L'Estrange family wanted his help — _**needed**_ his help. Could he do it? Could he do as they asked?

"Just…" the youngest L'Estrange girl said. "Help us. We don't want any more girls to end up like Emma. Please say you will?"

Danny sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his temple. He really didn't want to, but… It was the pleading look in the young woman's eyes that got him.

"What make me qualified for this? You know, other than me being Vlad's assistant?"

Mr. L'Estrange grinned, knowing they had him. He leaned closer to the table.

"You like making movies, correct?" the man said.

* * *

><p><strong>Author stuff cont'd: Originally when I wrote this last scene, Clockwork was involved. So heavily involved. He had the box of articles and whatnot, and he was keeping tabs on everything. It was... disturbing. A little too much so. Well, enough that I felt like I had to change it.<strong>

**I don't know if I mentioned this before, but this is my very first mystery fic. Ever. Any and all feedback will help. I'm not demanding it or withholding chapters or anything like that, but knowing where I stand by having my readers help hone my skills is something I like. Positive or negative or whatever. Let me know what you think.  
><strong>

**Thank you for reading,  
>iOc<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Author stuff: I do believe that this is the shortest chapter for this fic. There is one or two that come close, but this is the only one that's barely over 1000 words. And it was the most difficult chapter to write, from what I remember. Simply because of the transition between this one and the previous. **

**But... yeah. I will get around to responding to people later today, as always. You folks are really just the loveliet, kindest spirita I ever met.**

**Anyway, coming in live from my math class again. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. And I have a quiz today. Lovely. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Danny Phantom_. All legal rights belong to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Court of Stripes<strong>

**by iOc**

**Chapter 4**

_**Sunday, 20 October 2013**_

The rest of the night, Danny spent it alone in his family's trailer. He kept the light off in his room as he thought everything over. _**Did**_ Vlad know something? Quite possibly. But, the man actually killing innocent girls? Maybe… An old memory of his mother being… _**afraid**_ of something. Her warnings to never go near… Vlad? Was it possible that his mother knew something?

He sighed, giving up on it for the night. He would think more about in the morning. Maybe talk it over with Jazz — she always seemed to know what to do. Plus, she might be able to talk Clockwork out of having him do the murder-mystery-solving-thing.

What did he know about finding a murderer, anyway? Nothing! What made them think that _**he**_ — of all people — could find out what Vlad knows?

According to the L'Estrange family, being a director for films meant that he could see the larger picture — honestly, it was what they said. He could step outside the story and see things that others involved couldn't. He supposed that it made some sort of sense, in some way, but… _**really**_? _**That**_ was why they wanted his help? He was just a civilian! Well, sort of. Were cirkies even really considered civilians? It was a curious thought.

Sighing, he got off his bed and turned on the light. He winced at the sudden brightness and wished that he had kept it off. His eyes adjusted, eventually, and he looked around. His room was a mess.

Danny decided to clean. It was probably for the best, plus it might help him clear his mind. Jazz said something about a clear atmosphere makes for a clear mind. Or something like that. He only half listened when she spoke most times.

He tossed dirty clothes into one pile, ones he knew were clean in another, and the ones he wasn't sure of into a third. It didn't take long — much to his dismay — but folding the clean clothes helped to waste a little more time.

When that was done, he got to organizing the miscellaneous objects and notebooks he had. He picked up the one that he most recently started working on. He flipped through it and frowned. He didn't like where he left off. He grabbed his mechanical pencil and started jotting down the ideas he had for the scene, which slowly developed into him actually working on the screenplay.

By the time he stopped with a scene not dissimilar to the one he had been in _**that very evening**_, he had worked for a good round hour. He smiled. Maybe this would be a good way for him to keep track of everything, to "see things from the outside."

"I'll need help," he said to the open window.

He looked around his room for a scrap piece of paper. He started to jot down the names of anyone he could think that might be useful. He decided that he wasn't going to be like the detectives of noir films. He was never going to work alone. It was one of their greatest faults. Having a team of people to back him up was probably the best idea he ever had.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Monday, 21 October 2013<strong>_

"You want us to _**what**_?" Kwan said, glaring at his friend from across a cook house table.

"Look, I just need some extra eyes around the circus." Danny said to him and Tucker. "Vlad's easy to keep track of. I need a few helpers to watch other cirkies. _**Please**__?_"

Tucker and Kwan looked at one another and sighed.

"Fine," Tucker said. "If and only if you make this into a film when it's all said and done."

Danny tossed the notebook at them. Kwan opened it and started to flip through the pages. Tucker peeked over his shoulder.

"This is kind of cool," Kwan said, setting it back down. "But, I mean, don't you think the _police_ should be handling this?"

"Apparently the police are useless."

"Yes, one could agree with that." a voice from behind him said. He turned to see Vlad, peeking over his chair. Had he been eavesdropping?

"What do you want?" Danny said.

"Just happened to overhear what you gentlemen were talking about?" the man said. "I heard something about you making a film? Daniel, isn't it time to grow up and stop trying to be something you're not? You should focus your energy on becoming the owner."

"Becoming the owner?"

"Of the circus! You have one of the greatest chances out of all of us. Clockwork is very proud of you, you know. You could do great things."

Vlad dumped his garbage away and headed out the door. He stopped and turned back to them.

"Just remember, dear ol' Uncle Vlad, when you become owner."

With a wide grin - which was more like a sneer than anything else - he left, leaving a very confused group of cirkies to look at the three teens. Danny pinpointed everyone. Skulker and the Fright Knight (he didn't know their real names, just the ones they used on stage, unfortunately), Aragorn and Dora, Dash (one of the strongmen), Lydia and Ember (two of the aerialists), and Desiree the Fortune Teller (someone he'd never even talked to).

"Where should we start?" Tucker said.

"First thing's first, we need to figure out how the girl died," Danny said.

"Sounds… fun."

* * *

><p>"This is <em><strong>not<strong>_ fun," Tucker said, examining the photos that had been in the folders the L'Estranges had delivered to Danny. Most of the images were gore laden and frighteningly explicit. They left the three young men quite perturbed and nauseated. Only a handful were clean, and even those had an element of unease. The grim atmosphere lay laden over their heads.

Kwan announced that he had to leave for rehearsal and Tucker soon followed after him, which meant Danny didn't have much time before he had to be around Vlad again. This brought his thoughts for the day prior back. Did Vlad honestly know anything? And if he did, did he condone the deaths of innocent, young women? These questions brought more around and all of them just piled up.

Danny sighed, setting aside the photos for a moment. He really hated to ask, but perhaps Jazz would be willing to help. She understood the human psyche better than anyone. Yes, he decided, his sister would be in on the plot as well.

* * *

><p><strong>Author stuff cont'd: This chapter... such a pain in my rear. Really sorry that I couldn't make it longer for all of you lovely folks. You're all treasures, really you are. Seeing the numbers alone makes me happy.<strong>

**In other much more emotionally distressing news, my dog was attacked for a pit for the second time while I was walking her. If that hasn't ever happened to you, feel lucky but be prepared. Dog attacks happen very quickly. And I hate the stereotype of pits always attacking — they're wonderful dogs, but I do ask owners to please ensure that the yard is secured before letting any of your pets out, especially big dogs. My dog isn't tiny, she's average sized but small in the weight category, and she can hold her own just fine. But I hate when this happens and don't wish to see anyone lose a pet because of an accident. Be a responsible owner, please.**

**With love and hope,  
>iOc<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Author stuff: This is another short chapter. Chapter 2 was the longest and the shortest chapter has yet to make an appearance. It's a little while away, and the next chapter will make up for all these short chapters. I hope.**

**Have I told y'all how lovely you are? I have? Well, I'll tell you again: All y'all are lovely people who deserve hugs and brownies and fluffy puppies and kitties. I send them in your direction — virtually, of course.**

**The interaction between Jazz and Danny in this chapter was inspired by an event between my sister and me. It was over bacon. That is all I'm willing to say on that.**

**I had a question — for chapter 3, I believe — asking for Danny's age. He's twenty-three. It's sort of hinted at in chapter 2 and becomes more apparent in later chapters when more things are revealed. I hope this helps the curious-minded.**

**I have some homework to complete — financial stuff, ew — and a project — I'm buying a fake house! — so... e****njoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Danny Phantom_. All legal rights belong to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Court of Stripes<strong>

**by iOc**

**Chapter 5**

_**Monday, 21 October 2013**_

"What make you think that I'll help you?" Jazz said, scowling at her younger brother. She was not happy, to say the least, that he got caught up in everything.

"Please?" he said, kneeling of the ground and pleading. "You're my big sister. Aren't big sisters supposed to look out for and help their adorable younger brothers?"

"The adorable ones, yes. You, on the other hand, no."

"But why not!"

"Because, Danny, you'll get hurt!" she said. "Who do you think you are, the hero in one of your silly noir films? Please think about it."

"I _**have**_. Trust me, Jazz. I tried to back out of it but I'm the only one who can see the big picture."

"And how's that?"

"With this," he said, holding out his notebook.

She flipped through it, her frown increasing.

"What is it?" she said.

"This is how I see the world, as a screenplay. I notice things only when I write them down on paper. The little details — like what Vlad was throwing away at lunch. Normally, when we have soup, he gets the tomato basil. He got chicken noodle instead."

"Maybe they ran out of tomato basil."

"He got chicken noodle, but he didn't eat any of it. He was sitting right behind me, eavesdropping in on my conversation with Tucker and Kwan. I checked with the cooks after we were done eating. There was plenty of tomato basil left. So why did he take chicken noodle?"

"A change of pace?" Jazz said flatly. Danny deadpanned. She shrugged and went back to her work. She was plenty busy as it was.

"Come on, Jazzy," he said. "I just need to peek into everyone's files."

"That's an invasion of privacy."

"Which is why I need you to do it. Techinically it's not an 'invasion of privacy' if you're doing it for Clockwork." Okay, a _**big**_ lie but Jazz didn't need to know that.

"_**Clockwork**_ put you up to this mess?"

"Yeah." Another lie.

"I refuse to believe it."

"_**Please**_. I'll do your chores for a month."

"You owe me for the time with the monkeys, the Twizzlers, and the piñata."

"_**Two**_ months."

"Not happening."

"Three months?"

"Nope."

"Five?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Seven?"

"Danny…"

"I can keep doing this all day. It's up to you."

She sighed, giving in.

"Make it a year and you have a deal."

"Yes!" he said, pumping his fist in the air. "You have no idea what it means to me."

"I have some idea," she said to herself. To him, "So what am I looking for exactly?"

"Any mar against anyone. Any fault they have. Blanks in their employment history. You know, anything unusual. I'll go around and ask people about it."

"Won't they get suspicious?"

"Probably," He shrugged.

She shook her head, rifling through the papers on her desk nervously.

Danny knew she would never do anything of the sort unless told directly by Clockwork to do something unconventional. To make her do this was against all her good morals.

He patted her shoulder to let her know that he understood.

"So," she said, "who's all helping you?"

"Tucker and Kwan so far. I think I might ask Grace and Dora, seeing as how I know them and trust them. Grace has contact with everyone, and nobody hates Dora."

"Sounds like a good team so far, but who do you have on the outside?"

"Outside?"

"Out and about with the gillies."

"No one yet… Why? Who do you have in mind?"

* * *

><p>"Where the heck <em><strong>are<strong>_ we?" Danny said as he and Jazz exited the vibrant truck.

"Amity Park State University," she said. "You have some friends here, if I remember right."

"How do you know —"

"Don't worry, little brother, I won't tell mom. Or dad. Definitely not dad."

They both shuddered, knowing what he would make of Danny having friends outside the circus, especially if they were female friends. Well, they were acquaintances in all reality, but he had hung out with them and that's what friends did… _**right**_?

"Come on," she said, leading the way to one of the tall, red brick buildings that lined a pretty courtyard spotted with trees. He liked the orange and brown leaves that contrasted the still green lawn.

"Uh, Jazz, how do you know where to go?" he said.

"Hm? Oh, I ran into those girls as they were leaving. I saw you hanging out with them yesterday and I talked to them. I found out what dorm they are staying in for the semester. They're very nice. Do you think you'll keep in contact with them after we leave?"

"I don't know. I honestly hadn't thought about it. I mean, how would I?"

"Letters, postcards, emails, texts, _**phone calls**_. There are many ways."

"We'll have to see."

She nodded slowly, turning to one of the buildings. She pushed open one of the double doors, holding it open for her. He returned the gesture with the inner doors.

Inside, it smelled smoky, a mix of cigarettes and used firewood. There was also the temporary scent of freshly baked pizza from a toaster oven. It was warm, refreshing after the nippy outside air.

The whole bottom floor was filled with people milling about or sitting on plush furniture. Books were strewn about. Voices ricocheted off the high ceiling made to look rustic. The vents and wires above were exposed to everyone.

Danny found that he liked the look of it.

"If I were to go to college," he said, "this is the kind of place I'd look in to."

Jazz smiled sadly at him and nodded. She gestured to a staircase off to one side.

"This way, little brother." she said.

She led him up three flights of stairs and opened up a door. The hallway was lined with wood doors, all with a dry erase board on them. The floors were carpeted with a speckled blue firm piece of carpeting.

Jazz took him to a door, room 434, and she knocked. Muffled sounds and thump were heard from within. Danny looked at his sister with raised eyebrows but she stared ahead at the closed door. Locks were unlocked and a disheveled blonde opened the door. It took him a moment to recognize the girl as Star.

"Hey," she said, slightly breathless. "We weren't expecting you."

"I could tell," Jazz said. "Is Sam here?"

"Uh, no. She has class all day. Do you want to stay and wait for her? I mean, it'll take her about five hours…"

"No, just tell her to call me."

Danny looked back and forth between them. _**What was going on**__?_

Jazz did more than talk to the girls, she knew them. He tried not to show his surprise at the revelation and almost failed.

Valerie peeked around Star, looking more put together than her friend.

"Oh thank god," she said, "normal people. Please, save me from my friend. She's going to drive me _**insane**_."

"Am not!" Star said. "It's your own fault that you don't like 1D."

"'1D'?" Danny said. Star looked him up and down, trying to calculate if he was lying or not. He wasn't.

"One Direction. They're totally gorgeous and totally British. I'd kill my roommates in order to meet them."

"That's a reassuring thought," Val said, rolling her eyes. "So, why'd you stop by? Not that we mind or anything."

"We were looking for Sam." Jazz said. "But… well, yeah."

"Yeah, all day classes. The girl is crazier than blondie here."

"Who, me?" Star said. "I'm not sure if I've been insulted or not. Was I insulted?"

"Yes."

"…I hate you."

"Love you too."

"Should we go or…" Jazz said.

"No, it's fine," Val said. "I wouldn't wait for Sam to come back. It'll take all day. But you have our number right?"

"Yeah, you have mine?"

"Pinned to our bulletin board," Val waved her hand to one side of the dorm where the board was.

"Have her call me, yeah? Or better, skype me. You have my skype number, correct?"

"No, I don't think we do."

Star turned to get something to write on and something to write with. She returned with a heart shaped stack of Post-It notes and a glittery, black pen — a gel pen. Jazz quickly scribbled something down and handed the items back to Star, who smiled and nodded.

"Funny," she said.

"I know," Jazz said. "Very Freudian."

"Who?"

"Just…" Val said, sighing. "Go back to bed, Star. Psychology jokes go right over your head anyway."

"How would a psychology joke go over my head? I'm a psychology major."

"We'll discuss this later with Sam," To Jazz and Danny, Valerie said, smiling, "Great to see you two again. Sorry about her but you know how friends can be. We'll be sure to pass the message on to Sam."

"Bye," Jazz said, waving. Val returned it, closing the door.

"Time to head back," Jazz said, turned and starting towards the stairs.

Danny could do little but follow her.

"What just happened?" he said to himself.

* * *

><p>The two Fenton siblings returned to the circus grounds. Jazz drove the truck to the back lot where the trailers waited, mostly empty. Very few people remained away from the civilians of Amity Park and the surrounding cities.<p>

Danny didn't have any performances today, seeing as how Vlad was feeling a bit under the weather — very unusual, if you knew the man. The young man mulled it over as he meandered through the main area for the guests.

People cried out in excitement, running around, pointing at things and eating delicious sweets they otherwise would have forbidden themselves to eat anywhere else. They were all too preoccupied to notice him standing beside one of the amusement tents. He saw the familiar faces of fellow cirkies here and there, as well as some who had attended the illusionist's performance the day before. None of them seemed to miss the act, there was always something else to occupy their time before the main show started.

After people watching for sometime, he decided to head back to the privacy of the cirkies' trailers. Maybe Kwan or Tucker could keep him company. He checked both their trailers and found that neither of them were in at the moment. Kwan was rehearsing and Tucker was with the animals. Deciding the latter was less likely to kill him, he moved to the temporary stables.

He stopped when he saw two familiar figures, one looking over the other.

"What do you think you're doing?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author stuff cont'd: Want to know a fun fact? In my rough draft, Tucker's role was done by Sidney. Yes, Sidney Poindexter. Tucker was originally Kwan, and Kwan was an unnamed strongman. But, when reading through everything, I decided that Tucker needed to be in more and I swapped him and Sidney. Then I realized that Sidney didn't fit the acrobat role very well, so I went through the list of characters. Kwan was chosen because he's... Kwan. No other words to describe him.<strong>

**Another fun fact, that last scene was the second thing I wrote for this fic — the first being the epilogue, and the third the climatic scene. I had three very specific scenes I wanted written before I did anything else. All three went under heavy revision, sadly — this one less so than the others. **

**And, yes, Jazz talked to the girls when Danny went and chatted with the L'estranges. The things our hero doesn't know about...**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author stuff: Kind of got busy today and part of yesterday. I promise that I'll get around to responding to people tonight and tomorrow. I have a cousin's birthday party today and I'm making the chicken salad for the sandwiches. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Danny Phantom_. All legal rights belong to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Court of Stripes <strong>

**by iOc**

**Chapter 6**

_**Monday, 21 October 2013**_

"What do you think you're doing?" Tucker said, standing over a familiar female form.

"Uh…" she said, standing up and dusting off her stripped stockings and black.

"Sam?" Danny said, gaping at her. "Val and Star said you were in class…"

"She snuck back here," Tucker said, frowning. "You know her?"

"Yeah. I promised to take her on a backstage tour of the circus. You know, show her how well the animals are taken care of and all that."

"Whatever. Just make sure she stays with you. Anybody else finds her and… we all know what happens."

"What happens?" Sam said.

"You don't want to know," Danny said slowly to her. She honestly didn't.

Clockwork, while kind and open hearted, was very protective of his circus and his performers. To intrude upon their sanctity was quite punishable by death — according to circus laws. However, he had never heard of the man going through will killing a trespasser, but there was always a first time for everything. And Danny would rather not test it.

"Come on," Danny said, taking her hand in his. He led her away from Tucker and the animals.

"So, tour of the circus?" Sam said, eyes lighting up.

"Sorry, but… no. Can't. Not today. I've got to talk to people." He saw her wilt, but — at the last part — she perked back up.

"About what?"

"I… I really can't tell you."

"Is this about the dead girl?" Sam said. Her face scrunched up as she tried to remember something. "Emily Strange or something like that."

"Emma L'Estrage. And how do you know about her?"

"It's been all over the news. People are starting to suspect the circus, you know."

"What?"

"Yeah," she said. She dug in the single strapped bag that hung off her left shoulder. She pulled something out — a local newspaper — and handed it to him. "Page four. It's the whole reason I ditched class today. It's actually kind of interesting…"

Danny looked down at the article she was referring to. It did, indeed, state that _Le Cirque de Fantômes_ would soon be under inspection. Things were beginning to connect. If word really spread beyond the rumors of small towns, the circus could honestly close down for good. One thing about the article caught his eye. It wasn't the picture of the main gates — more than likely taken before any cirky was awake — but a statement in the last few paragraphs.

…_I managed to speak to the circus's owner of forty-nine years, Matthew Zeitlos. _

"_I have people looking into it," Zeitlos said. "I trust them and their abilities. They are good people with good intentions, and led by someone who can see the full scope of things as they are."_

_When questioned who these people were, he refused statement._

"A load of shit, right?" Sam said, when she noticed he was rereading the whole thing again. "This writer is known for not being the best. She's really nosy and has almost gotten herself killed a few times. Kind of like Rita Skeeter — from Harry Potter? Yeah, her. She annoyed the pants off me in the books."

"How can she almost get herself killed?" Danny said. "This is Amity Park — a small town!"

"Different mafias like to meet here. Nice, neutral ground with lots of prime real estate. Pretty much the reason my parents moved here."

"Are your parents in the —"

"Danny!" He and Sam turned to see Jazz jogging up to meet them. In her hands was a copy of the newspaper. "Have you seen this?"

She showed him the article he had just read. He nodded, holding up Sam's copy.

"Sam just gave it to me," he said. "Did Clockwork say anything about it?"

"Uh-uh. I'm starting to get worried. He's been pretty reclusive lately. I'm starting to get worried."

Danny bit his lip and thought. It was odd. The man had always been on the secluded side but if Jazz was commenting on it, he must be more withdrawn than normal. He didn't want to think it but a thought came across his mind that he could not shake.

"You don't think," he said, stopping himself mid-sentence. "No, he wouldn't do that… would he?"

"Do what?" Jazz said.

"Kill all those girls," Sam said, her eyes not leaving Danny's face.

"What? No. _**Impossible**_. I'm with him almost every hour of the day. I know his schedule. Clockwork's not that kind of man."

"Jazz is right, Sam," Danny said. "It's a stupid thought. I mean, _**Freakshow**_ is more capable of killing people than Clockwork."

"…You do realize I have no idea who these people are, right?" Sam said. "I just said what you were thinking. I didn't say that _**I**_ thought he could do it."

"Right," he said, rolling his shoulders. He hoped they would pop, they were feeling incredibly tight and uncomfortable. He will probably have to do a good stretch before his next performance.

"I have an idea," Jazz said. Both Danny and Sam looked at her, waiting patiently for her to continue. "No one here knows Sam, right?"

"Tucker saw her, but I told him I was going to take her on a tour around the circus."

"Good. Just say that she's a student journalist looking for a cirky's point of view on the whole situation. 'It's best to speak with the people directly connected,' or something like that. And tell Tucker. We might need his help, too."

"I could work," Sam said. "I still have my press pass from last semester. I keep forgetting to turn it in."

She rummaged through her bag and pulled out an eliminated note card-sized badge with a picture of her and her name, and giant bold letters reading: "Pass." She clipped it to the front of her shirt — pinching the fabric awkwardly. It would leave a little stretched out tag.

"If I kept doing the paper," she said, "I would have to get a little sticker for this semester on it. It was too much work the past year and a half and I had such a heavy load that I didn't even want to try again."

"You don't have to," Danny said.

"I _**want**_ to. I have… I have my own reasons for wanting to figure out who this guy is."

"This could work in our favor," Jazz said, tapping her chin. "Danny, you'll show her around until it's almost show time, got it? Sam, question people."

"Pretty sure I know how to do things."

"See you both later!"

They watched as Jazz jogged off. They stood for a moment, waiting to see what the other would suggest.

"Any idea where to start?" Danny said.

"All of the articles I found said that the girls were cut by a smooth blade — nothing serrated. Anyone had those kinds of swords or something?"

"Well… Skulker, but he's not the nicest guy. At least to me."

"Let's start there."

"Lovely."

* * *

><p>Skulker was a tall man with many muscles and tattoos. His hair was long, dyed a vibrant teal, and curled in ways that made Sam jealous — as she later told Danny. He spent most of the time glaring at the young man but he listened intently as Sam spoke.<p>

"How long have you been with this particular circus?" she said, quite casually.

"Eight years," he said, crossing his arms. "Three years ago, though, my contract wasn't renewed."

"Mr. Zeitlos wasn't interested in knife throwing?"

"I had an injury. I used to juggle knives and, well, one went right through my palm, see? Thankfully, it was during a rehearsal and not in front of any children." He shuddered at the thought. "Anyway, it took me a while to recover. I wasn't able to get back until near the end of the season. It worked out for the best."

"And you came back to this circus?" she said, glancing up at the man through her lashes. She reminded Danny of Ava Gardener in _The Killers_. "Why this circus? Is there something special about it?"

"Not really," Skulker said, shrugging. "It's good pay and I knew almost everyone at the time. Our circus is kind of like a family — if one of us suffers, we all suffer. That sentimental crap."

Sam jotted things down, despite an application on her phone recording everything that was said. She went about it all… professionally. All of her questions and notes were neutral, not picking one side or the other.

"And of the recent events…?"

"Will that girl and people blaming us? I don't like it. We have schedules and very little time to waste answering questions." Danny flinched at that but Sam remained placid.

"Perfectly understandable," she said. "I thank you again, though. My peers will be very happy to hear something other than 'no comment' from this side of the fence. Silence can only be kept for a little time, and to at least have something to show instead of nothing will hopefully smooth everything out much quicker."

"Good to know that," he said.

"I should let you get back to your rehearsal. Again, thank you very much."

She held out her hand for him to shake — his large on engulfing her's. She smiled sincerely. When he let her go, she unlocked her phone and shut off the app. She tossed her things into her bag and turned to Danny.

"Come on," she said. "We have a few more people to talk to."

He nodded and followed after her. Skulker stopped him as he started to leave the practice area.

"Be careful, whelp," he said, squeezing the shoulder he had grabbed. "You're playing a dangerous game."

Danny was released and he stumbled away, nearly colliding with Sam and knocking them both to the ground. They walked away before she spoke to him.

"He obviously didn't do it," she said. "Only eight years. This thing has been going on for almost twenty. How hasn't anyone connected the dots before?"

"Humans have the tendency to overlook the obvious until it's too late," he said.

"Right, so anyone else we should talk to?"

"Fright Knight?"

"Fright… What kind of name is _**that**_?"

"He swallows swords," Danny said.

"We'll have to ask a few others, so it doesn't look like we're _**just**_ talking to people who play with dangerous weapons."

"We could also talk to the Dragons and the aerialists. I know a few of them."

"Okay, what's up with all of these weird names?"

"Stage names. Not everyone wants to go around, parading their legal names. We wouldn't have any privacy if we did. I don't like being asked by my old peers whether or not I still do the 'clown-thing'."

"'Clown-thing'? You used to be a _**clown**_?"

"Yeah, what of it?"

"It's just… Bad experience when I was six. Got pushed into a pool and… Yeah. You don't want to know the fine details."

"How deep was this pool?"

"Pretty deep."

"Not fun then?"

"Now it is. Back then, when I needed water wings? Not so much."

"Brutal."

"I know, right?" she said. They both chuckled. "Anyway, back to this… mess. Or whatever you're planning to call it."

"I think I'll call it 'A Circus to Die For'."

"Not bad, Mr. Fenton. Very… original. I didn't expect that from someone in the court of stripes."

"Court of stripes? I like that. It sounds cool." She beamed. He felt the back of his neck and ears heat up. He cleared his throat and said, "So, questioning. We should get back to that."

Sam agreed. They made their way to the main tent, where the aerialists were currently in the middle of their rehearsal. They promised to answer her questions when they were done. Wandering around, they found Dora and Aragon. Dora smiled shyly at them.

"What do _**you**_ want?" Aragon said.

"Hi, I'm Samantha Manson," Sam said, holding out her hand and offering her kindest smile. "I'm a student reporter at a local college —"

"Not interested."

Sam's smile faltered.

"He's not interested," Dora said, glaring at her brother, "but I am. We need a break anyway. What could a few questions harm?"

"A 'few questions,' as you put it, can do a _**lot**_ of harm. She could be a spy from another circus or trying to figure out which one of us killed that girl."

"I would hardly ask such invasive questions," Sam said. "Although, I admit, I really want to hear this side of things and what you think of all this madness."

"I would be happy to help in any way I can," Dora said, smiling sincerely. She took a rug laid out on the grass for her and her brother to sit on after they rehearsed. She patted a spot next to her, welcoming Sam to join her. Sam sat down on the spot and dug out her notebook, phone, and blue clicky pen. She set up her app and started with the questions.

"May I ask your name?" she said.

"Dorothea Prince," Dora said, clasping her hands together in front of her.

"Have you ever worked with any other circus before?"

"Several times. A lot of small one-ringers with no animals, except dogs. My brother had a few… _**disagreements**_ with a few other performers of our craft."

"Your craft?"

"Fire. We're pyrotechnics."

"Ah. As you were saying, your brother had disagreements…?"

"Yes. Petty bickers about the act usually. There were other times where… Well, it's not appropriate."

"That is enough, Dorothea," Aragon said, snatching her wrist and pulling her to her feet.

"Ari, _**please**_," she said. "I'm not going into detail."

He narrowed his eyes, frown deepening, and then released her. Dora shook off the sensation of his grip and sat back down. She fixed her hair, and the smile returned to her pleasant face.

"Where were we? Oh, yes, my brother…"

* * *

><p>"So," Jazz said once Danny and Sam stepped into the RV, "how'd it go?"<p>

They both collapsed on the couch with a groan.

"My booths hurt," Sam said.

"Don't you mean boots?" Danny said.

"Yeah. Whatever…"

"You never answered my question," Jazz said, rolling her eyes.

"Yes we did. We answered it with a groan."

"So, badly then."

"I think my blister's blisters have blisters on their blister's blisters."

"…Did that even make sense?" Danny said.

"I have no idea. My brain's too… mushy to figure it out."

"It made sense," Jazz said. A pregnant pause passed between the trio before she spoke up again. "Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?" she said, lifting one of her eyelids to look at the redhead.

"Have you ever been to a circus before?"

Danny cocked a brow at his sister's question but he did not say anything.

"Once. That's how I met Star — Val I've known since pre-K but we never really got along until after we graduated high school. She dated this guy I liked at the time… It was a disaster.

"Anyway, Star and I both wanted cotton candy and there was only one bag at the time — neither of us really wanted to wait, we were kids, you know? So we played rock-paper-scissors and she won. We ended up sharing the bag, in the end. We wandered around together until she insulted this guy. He was pretty ugly, and Star has always spoken her mind. He shot an insult back and she kicked him in the shins. It was pretty funny, I'll admit. She and her parents had to leave after that. My parents and I stayed longer.

"I got separated from them halfway through our trip. I got lost somewhere dark and with a lot of mirrors. This kid found me and cheered me up. He was the nicest kid I have ever met. I kind of wish I remembered the name of the circus to see if I could find him. I'd really like to thank him."

Danny blinked, thinking back to the little girl he met oh so long ago in the Hall of Mirrors. He highly doubted that Sam was that little girl, but the world was a _**much**_ smaller place than people gave it credit for. Perhaps…

"Sounds like you had an eventful first time," Jazz said, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Not many children ever come to our circus, so I never really know how they'd react to all this… madness."

"Kids always seem to enjoy a circus, no matter what," Sam said. "Hey, what time is it?"

"Almost eleven, why?"

"Shit! I have an early class tomorrow. I need to get going." She shot up and hissed. Her feet were still hurting her. Danny stood up next to her.

"Let me escort you back to your car."

"I'm pretty sure I can make it back by myself, thanks."

"Yeah, well, we might have a murderer in our midst. I'd rather see that you get to your car alive. Come on."

Sam gathered her stuff and hobbled back out of the RV, trailing after him. The walk from the employees' living station to the parking lot was quiet. The air chimed with the bright lights, calliope and delicious smells, and Sam's hisses as she walked. Danny stopped, halting her and offering his back.

"No way in hell," she said, scowling.

"It'll save your feet," he said. "Come on, I know that you're probably bleeding into your socks by now. Just hop on."

"You're a chivalrous ass, I hope you know that."

"Chivalry is dead. I'm being a gentleman. It's either you hop on my back, or I pick you up and carry you to your car."

"I'll go kicking and screaming."

"You'd be more dignified if I carried you on my back," he said. She huffed and crossed her arms.

"You're not going to give up on this are you?"

"Nope."

"Fine," she said. He lowered himself down to her level and hopped on, counting for his benefit. He hefted her up a few times, making sure his grip was good under her knees, and then started once more to her car. She settled comfortable on his back, resting her chin on his right shoulder. He became very aware of her breathing and how close her face was to his own. He had never really been this close to a girl — young woman, he corrected himself — before. Even with all his acting and apprenticeship, no female had ever willingly come this close to him before — besides his mother and sister, that is. Danny was thankful of the darkness between the circus and the parking lot.

It did not take them long to reach their destination and by that time, the flush had calmed and disappeared. Sam pointed him to a small, black, foreign gas-saver — he didn't recognize the make or model but it looked like it would belong to her. He could make out a scruffy, pink bear with patches and red marks marring the fur and a black pine tree-shaped air freshener hanging off the rearview mirror. Sam climbed off his back and dug in her bag for her keys. She withdrew them and turned to face Danny.

"Well," she said, "thanks. I _**think**_I had fun today."

"You think?" he said. She chuckled and dug her toe into the gravel, looking down at it. Without thinking, he said, "Why did you help me?"

"What do you mean?" She looked back up at him sharply, her brows knitting together.

"With trying to figure out who killed those girls. Why did you help me?"

"I already told you, I have my reasons."

"The _**real**_ reason, Sam."

"Because," she said, as if the answer was that simple, "I don't want to see girls like me get hurt."

* * *

><p>That night, after returning to his family's RV, he showered and readied himself for bed. He pulled out the white notebook with the screenplay he only <em><strong>just<strong>_ started and flipped to the page where he left off. He reread what he wrote and continued on.

The murderer found the girl and ditched her body on the edge of town, where he knew it would be found by a passerby. Then, he added a new character — the younger sister to the murdered girl, and she wanted revenge.

After he drifted off to sleep, he dreamed of a familiar violet-eyed girl stumbling through the Hall of Mirrors, being chased by a shadow wielding a dangerous and deadly looking blade. One he knew resided somewhere in this very circus.

* * *

><p><strong>Author stuff cont'd: I barely have time to comment of this chapter, but I remember that I love Dora. She's amazing. And Aragon annoys me.<strong>

**As I said, I'll get around to responding to everyone tonight and tomorrow. Thank you all very much for the love I keep getting and the support.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author stuff: This feels like an unusually busy week for me. I have this, homework and school, work, a project, and planning for NaNoWriMo — excited about this, really I am. I love NaNoWriMo. It's a wonderful annual event that every writer should participate in at least once.**

**Anyway, coming in live — as I do every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I post this before my class starts and just kind of... wait to see what happens. Seeing your reviews — any time of the day — is a delight and a surprise. Thank you all.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Danny Phantom_. All legal rights belong to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Court of Stripes<strong>

**by iOc**

**Chapter 7**

_**Tuesday, 22 October 2013**_

Danny had the following day off once more. Vlad needed one more day to recover properly from whatever illness ailed him. He spent the morning working on his script — or trying to. He wasn't having much luck. His thoughts were plagued by the dream. Mirrors, Sam, the shadowy figure, the familiar knife — where _**had**_ he seen if before?

Unconsciously, he began sketching the knife on the page in front of him. It was simple: a single bladed knife that curved as it neared the tip, the grip was shaped like an hourglass and lacked a proper pommel. Its simplicity was what fascinated him. All of the performer preferred very ornate blades that looked rather mystical — embellished with gleaming gems and swirls of gold lettering. But the knife… the _**dagger**_… he knew it. He more than _**recognized**_ it. But where…?

"Vlad," he said, remembering something from so long ago. His mentor had owned such a blade years ago — back when he first joined the circus. He'd seen it numerous times in the past, of that he was aware, but in the past two, three years or so, the dagger seemed to have vanished. Was it still even in the chest?

"I'm being ridiculous," he said. "I probably just unconsciously remembered it or something. My brain put it there because of yesterday. Yeah, that's all it was."

Thinking about the weapon brought back memories of what he had seen of the dead girl, Emma L'Estrange. Her mutilations were made by a straight blade, not one that was serrated. There was no rhyme or rhythm to the pattern, either, just cutting — that is, from what he remembered. She had been bled out. But for what purpose? Was someone in the circus secretly a vampire? He snorted at the thought. Vampires don't exist.

"But still…" he said, mumbling to the open notebook that was marred by his impromptu drawing. He sighed, closing at and clicked on the laptop computer his parents bought for him when he turned eighteen. Jazz had received one for her eighteenth birthday as well. Prior to that, they had been forced to use the school's old computer — the ones that had been donated to the program designed for children who traveled with a circus.

The machine booted up fairly quickly and the main menu popped up. He signed in, typing his password — PhantomMenace71 — and waited as his account loaded. A minute or two later and he got online — or tried to. The internet was still down. Had his parents paid the bill? No, they had to cut back so they dropped the service provider last month. He sighed and turned off his computer. What to do? What to do?

A knock on his door alerted him that he was not alone in the RV, as he had previously thought. Jazz peeped in and looked around.

"Oh, good," she said, "you're awake. I was going to ask if you wanted to go into town with me. I'm doing a supply run."

"I really should rehearse my act," he said. It was an obvious lie, one that he knew Jazz would see right through, but she did not persist.

"Alright, perfectly fine. I was going to stop off at a Starbucks, but if you don't want to join me then I'll have to get coffee on my own."

A little light bulb flickered to life in the back corner of his mind, telling him something he did not catch. A second one followed, as did a third, fourth, and fifth. Starbucks had free wifi…

"Hey, Jazz," he said, catching her as she was about to walk back outside, "wait up. I'll come with. Just let me grab my laptop."

He caught the smirk she sent him just out of the corner of his eye. Sisters…

* * *

><p>Danny had Jazz pick him up another notebook — she needed a few work supplies — while he searched the aisles for some decently priced jarred spaghetti sauce. All of the brightly printed labels were beginning to confuse and intimidate him. He slumped forward on the cart and frowned, ruffling his hair with his hands.<p>

"Danny?"

He turned and saw Valerie with a basket looped around her arm. He looked away from it when he noticed the feminine hygiene products, tubs of ice cream, chocolates, and cherry Jell-O it was carrying.

"Hey, Val," he said.

"Got a problem?"

"Spaghetti sauce." He waved his hands at the offensive jars of spaghetti sauce.

"Ah." She smiled and looked around. She plucked one off the shelf and set it in his cart. "There, not so hard. Why you doing the shopping? Don't you have a performance or two today?"

"Vlad still wanted some time off to recover," he said, shrugging. "And my sister's stopping at Starbucks. Our wifi's out at the moment, so… Yeah, public access fun. What about you? Don't you have classes."

"Jut finished my homework for my _**night**_ classes. I don't do morning or day very well but sometimes you got to give. I have a math class tonight, Sam has another full day, and Star's in anatomy at the moment. I'm really here just to pick up some thing for survival and a prank. Tampon and Jell-O."

"Do I really want to know?"

"Revenge on a jerkass who blew off Star the other day. He's in my class. So, while I bore him with… whatever today's lesson is, Star and Sam will get his car. Easy peasy, lemon squeazy."

"Remind me not to anger the three of you."

She laughed, tossing her head back as her shoulders jerked up and down. He joined in, earning them a few curious glances from other patrons. Jazz found them, looking irritated. They calmed down seeing her expression.

"They only had singles," she said, tossing the small notebooks as well as some manila folders and a large thing of pens into the cart. "Hey, Valerie. You planning on coming to the circus again?"

"Can't until this weekend," Valerie said. "Lots of classes and whatnot. I know Star was planning on stopping by this Friday after her classes. Sammy, on the other hand… Well, she has her own schedule. I know that she was planning on retaking a test here and then there was some makeup work…"

"I have free tickets for you three to pick up at any given time."

"Wait, we can do that?" Danny said.

"I can, you can't," Jazz said. "Perks of being the owner's assistant. Greg fears me and my influence over Clockwork —" Danny snorted. _**Influence**_? "— and he's willing to do anything to keep his job."

"Does Clockwork know?"

"Clockwork knows _**everything**_. Even things we don't _**think **_he knows. He's a man of many secrets."

"Yeah, yeah," Danny said. "I know. 'He's the man the defies and defines all of time as we know it.' I've heard it all before."

"Well," Valerie said, "I'll see you two on Saturday — maybe before then, if I get lucky."

Jazz and Danny bid her farewell and finished their shopping. Next was Starbucks. After making sure their perishables wouldn't perish — by placing them into large portable coolers — they went inside to relax for twenty or so minutes. Jazz did all the relaxing. Danny mostly looked up the images of the mutilated bodies of the deceased girl.

"What's that?" Jazz said, peeking over his shoulder. Her face drained of color and scrunched up. She immediately looked away. "Oh, _**gross**_. Why on God's green earth are you looking at that?"

"That's the Emma girl," Danny said. He saved several of the images — they would later be placed on his external hard drive that was still in his bedroom in the RV — and went back to Google. "Do you remember any of the other girls?"

"No and I don't want to."

"Fine. Any of the towns?"

"Oh, yeah. Hold on a sec." Jazz pulled her purse into her lap and dug around for her planner. She had the entire schedule for the year printed out on a neatly folded piece of paper. She handed it to him. There were always twelve towns or cities that were a part of their tour, most of them occurred before they got to Amity Park — they would be spending their winter in Chicago this year (last year it had been New York City). He tried not to think about how many young women had been killed over the years.

He planned on searching for violent deaths in the smaller towns, they would be easier to find amongst all of the search results. Big cities, like Chicago and New York, didn't have such horrific ones but they were not completely unheard of. He was able to find plenty of images on one girl — Joann Smith. She'd been a pretty girl, tall, athletic, and had the chance of becoming a model for a good agency — before her death, that is. Merle Meyer was another and she had been the complete opposite of Joann, petite, on the bigger side, shy, but still very pretty and quite talented — there was a video of her singing for a choir concert.

And there were many other girls. All of them had been extraordinarily stunning to look at, particularly when they smiled. They had come from all different walks of life, there was no connection beyond them ever having visited the circus. Looking through some of the pictures he'd saved after they returned to the circus, Danny realized something. Not all of the young women had been picked to participate in Vlad's act.

* * *

><p><strong>Author stuff cont'd: Found out I didn't do too hot on a quiz last night — kind of expected it, not good with vocabulary. My math teacher does a lot of vocab for quizzes. Tests on the other hand... that's all formulas and graphs. I can do those. Those are easy. All you have to do is plug in numbers. Finance, ugh...<strong>

**Anyway, Val's scene was inspired by a prank an ex of my cousin's ex-best friend played on him six... seven... eight years ago. I think. Anyway, it involved tampons but not the jell-O. That's my aunt's input on it.**

**But! The plot is starting to thicken... like tapioca pudding left on the stove too long. And so I leave you to ponder while I get scolded by my teacher and plot ways to escape today's lesson.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author stuff: The day got away from me, somehow. I'll be working on dinner here in a smidge. Well, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! It's the shortest in this fic.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Danny Phantom_. All legal rights belong to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>The Court of Stripes<strong>

**by iOc**

**Chapter 8**

_**Wednesday, 23 October 2013**_

"I'm kidnapping the van," Danny said, taking the key from his sister's purse. He found her in the trailer serving as their main office and her purse alongside her.

"Excuse me?" she said, turning in her chair to look at him.

"Me, kidnapping, van, now."

"What if I need to run some errands?"

"You'll be fine. I won't be more than an hour."

"And where are you going?"

"Amity Park State University," he said. "Just real quick. I want Sam to look over something after her classes."

"Is it what you've learned about —" she said, interrupted by Freakshow opening the door.

"Miss Fenton, I am in dire need of your assistance," the fair-skinned man said. "Ah, Mr. Fenton, what a… surprise."

"Danny, go ahead but be sure to check in with me later," Jazz said, clasping her hands together on the desk as she turned her attention to the newcomer. "What is it, Mr. Showenhower?"

Danny hesitated then nodded, closing the door behind him. Something was off about Freakshow that morning. He was oddly… _**calm**_. He wondered what could have made the sudden change in the man. He shrugged it off and hopped into the van, buckling himself in.

It did not take him long to reach APSU. The walkways were teeming with students, most of whom eyed him curiously as he parked and got out. If he remembered, the girls' dorm was to the left. It… wasn't. He ended up wandering around the campus for the better part of the hour, hoping to stumble across Sam or Val or Star.

He decided to go into one of the buildings, to see if he could get directions. The halls were empty, but he could see inside some of the classrooms. He peeped in a few and recognized the back of a head he thought he recognized. He raised his hand to knock, then decided against it. It would be considered rude, and he didn't know the proper protocol of going in to a class and giving someone a notebook. So he decided to wait it out on the bench opposite the classroom door.

* * *

><p>Someone shook his shoulder, bringing him back from a nap. He jolted upright, blinking rapidly and looking around. Sam stood off to his left, her arm still poised to touch him and her hand curled just slightly.<p>

"What are you doing here?" she said, sitting down next to him. He looked to his right and held out the notebook.

"The first few pages are of the, ah, screenplay I was working on, but after that… Take a look at it, yeah?"

"Sure."

They sat in silence for a moment, both trying to think of something to say and then they both spoke at once. The jumble of words made them both chuckle.

"You go first," Sam said, gesturing to him with a free hand.

"No, you," he said.

"Danny…"

"Are you out of class yet?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "We're currently on a ten minute break. It's a two hour class. I still have forty or so minutes to endure. What about you? Don't you have a show today?"

"Yeah. First show at one, second at five."

"And after that?"

"Pretty much free to do whatever I want, besides go off the circus grounds. That's what… That's what got me into this whole mess to begin with." He tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling — a solid plaster ceiling instead of those foam tiles, or whatever they were made of. "Can I tell you something?"

"Danny, it better not be anything _**that**_ deep. I mean, we honestly met only a handful of days ago. And I cheated you into giving me and my friends tickets to a circus. Our — this isn't really friendship, is it? — friendship, or whatever the hell it is, is based on false pretenses. You know the reason I got you to give me those free tickets?"

"I figured because you wanted to go to a circus, or something along those lines."

"I _**am**_ an animal rights supporter, but I mostly did it because Star's birthday is this Saturday. I wanted to do something special for her, you know? I'm the kind of friend who would do that."

"So, you're the kind of girl who tricks an employee into giving her free tickets for a show?"

"Yep."

"And somehow I don't believe that," he said, turning to look at her. She met his gaze and quickly turned away.

"You better head back now," she said. "They might tow your van away for not having a parking pass."

"Aw, shit!"

* * *

><p>The van wasn't towed, thank goodness, but there was a pink slip held prisoner from the wind under the windshield wiper. There was no fine, only a warning. Danny heaved a sigh of relief and decided that it would be best to head back to the circus grounds — who knew what havoc and been set upon the place in his absence.<p>

The drive back was relatively quiet, only the cheerful hum of the radio DJ's voice and some early afternoon music. He kept the sound turned down and on the local station Jazz found several days ago.

He pulled back into the parking space reserved for the van and went to return the keys to Jazz — he honestly had no idea if she was still even there or if she had wandered off to check on the progress of everyone's rehearsals. He stopped his progress when he heard voices around the side of the trailer.

"…any problems?" a voice said. It was Freakshow.

"No, not for a while now," a second voice said. Vlad?

"Good, good. Everything is going according to plan, then."

"Well, as 'according to plan' as things can get with _**Daniel**_ snooping around."

"Ah, yes. The troublesome Fenton boy. What to do with him?"

"He's getting in our way," Vlad said, sighing. "What do you propose?"

"Get rid of him."

"How?"

"I don't know. You're the best with these kinds of things. _**You**_ figure it out. I'm already doing my part."

"And what is 'your part'?"

"Oh, you'll know when the time comes," Freakshow said.

"Will I?"

"Vladamir Masters, do you doubt me?"

"Frederich Isak Showenhower, I would not trust you with a _**penny**_."

"Good to know where we stand."

"Yes, it's always good."

* * *

><p><strong>Author stuff: Freakshow and Vlad are in cahoots? What! Bet no one saw that coming.<strong>

**And, yes, Danny kidnapped the van. That's... that's something I always say. Just to let people know, just so they don't go to go leave and find the van or car missing. I hate when that happens...**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author stuff: In between posting this, work, tumblr, and writing, I've been watching _Doctor Who_. Well, I should say re-watching. But it's been a long time since I've seen the majority of the episodes that it really feel likes I'm seeing some of them for the first time. So far, I've lost a Rose, gained a Donna and a Martha, and cried. A lot. The Doctor makes me sad.**

**But! I've also been reading _Eleanor & Park _by Rainbow Rowell. If you haven't heard of her or read anything by her, I suggest you pick up one of her books. She has a book about a girl who is in college and writes fanfiction. It's awesome. And it's good to know that fanfic writers are recognized as people beyond their anonymity. Anyway, she one of my recommended authors.**

**I'll get to responding to people in a few hours, like always. I appreciate and enjoy the love all y'all have been given me. Thank you for it.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Danny Phantom_. All legal rights belong to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Court of Stripes<strong>

**by iOc**

**Chapter 9**

_**Thursday, 24 October 2013**_

"So let me get this straight," Kwan said, "Vlad and Freakshow are in on the kidnapping and killing plot together? That sounds completely ridiculous."

"It does sound a little far-fetched," Tucker said. Danny had gathered the two of them and Sam in the animal tent. "I mean, they _**hate**_ one another."

"Yeah, I know," Danny said, "but you've got to trust me on this. I know what I heard. Something's going on between them."

"You sure they aren't just trying to take over after Clockwork retires?" Kwan said. "Because that sounds perfectly reasonable to me."

"Send me in to talk to them," Sam said.

"Vlad would recognize you in an instant," Danny said, frowning. He crossed his arms. "And so would Freakshow. They've seen you and I together."

"Wait," Kwan said, looking back and forth between them. "What have I missed? Am I missing something? I feel like I'm missing something."

"If you're out of the loop," Tucker said, "then Danny's been keeping secrets from us. Daniel Eisenhower Fenton, are you keeping things from us?"

"Your middle name is _**Eisenhower**_?" Sam said, cocking a brow.

"You're missing the point here, guys," Danny said, sighing.

"Danny's been helping me with a school report." Tucker and Kwan both looked at her. "Press pass, remember? He was showing me around and I got this idea for an article… It's kind of stupid, but I wanted to hear how people from the circus were dealing with the accusations of one of their own possibly being a murderer. And getting some background information. You never know when something useful might come up. For example, Danny's middle name being Eisenhower."

"Yeah, dude, that is kind of a weird middle name," Kwan said.

"Thanks guys, you are so supportive," Danny said flatly. "Can we get back on task, please?"

"Yeah, we're freelancing this detective shit. Uh, speaking of which, what kind of cut do we get?"

"Cut?"

"Payment, you know?"

"There is no 'cut'," Sam said, "we're all doing this for free."

"I'm not," Kwan said, hopping off the gate to the horse's stall. "See you losers later."

"Kwan!" Danny said, a vain attempt at getting his friend back. "And he's gone. Great. We're down one person."

"Hey, Sam," Tucker said, "don't you have school today?"

"No, my teacher started her maternity leave today, so the class was canceled. Her replacement comes in on Monday."

"They couldn't find someone to substitute?"

"They could, but they wanted a specialist."

"College is so weird…"

"Tell me about it."

"Right, guys," Danny said. "Dead girls, remember?"

"Right, sorry," Tucker said. "Any new information?"

"Beyond what Danny gave me yesterday?" Sam said. "Nothing new on my end."

"I only had the Vlad and Freakshow conversation," Danny said. "Sid?"

"I heard Clockwork talking yesterday to someone," Tucker said. "I couldn't see who it was, but the voice was distinctly female. They were walking about dried blood being found somewhere. I didn't catch the whole thing but that's got to be something, right?"

"Dried blood?" Sam said, wrinkling her nose. "Gross."

"I thought Goths were all into the blood, darkness, and vampires thing."

"You're thinking of women who prefer to read love stories with glittering cold bloods over a story about a war between different vampire clans and shape-shifters."

"Ah, don't ruin _Twilight_ for me! I only just started reading it!"

"You're not missing much, honestly. The last book was _**beyond**_ predictable." Sam said, crossing her arms. "Although, there was this one really great plot twist I didn't see coming. It involves Jacob —"

"You aren't allowed to speak anymore! La la la la la, I'm not listening!"

"_**Guys**_!" Danny said, shutting them up. "This is serious. People have _**honestly**_ died. I saw one of the bodies. This isn't some _**game**_. Innocent lives are in danger. The police can't do shit until the next body shows up."

"And by the time it does," Sam said, "it'll be too late. The circus will have up and left, the murderer knows by now that someone is on his tail and he'll flee into the sunset. Yeah, we know. Not every bad guy comes to justice, Danny. Not everything is all black and white. This isn't some little noir film that you can just press pause or stop when things get too scary. They're all very real — _**especially**_ to you. _**You**_ were the one who found Emma. It traumatized you, we get that. But you need a few moments to breathe and relax. Then we can look at the big picture."

"Wow," Tucker said, "if this was a movie or a book or something, that would have made a really inspirational speech. Such passion, eh, Danny Boy?"

"The bigger picture," Danny said to himself. He tapped his chin, deep in thought. What if the answer he was looking for was in a giant picture? "Sam, do you still have my notebook?"

"Yeah," she said, pulling it out. She handed it to him. "What's going on?"

"To my bedroom where we can have a little more privacy."

* * *

><p>Danny pulled out the pictures of the girls he had printed out once the got to his room, locking the door. He shuffled through them, looking for the ones with full bodies. When Sam and Tucker realized what he was doing, the helped. In no time, they had plucked out the ones they wanted.<p>

"Keep them separate by year," Danny said.

"And how will we know?" Sam said.

"I have them numbered on the back."

Sam flipped one over and hummed. Sure enough, on the back in Danny's scrawl, was the date the body was found and the year of the tour. She began flipping them all over and organized them that way.

"I didn't realize it until you said something earlier," Danny said. "'The bigger picture.'"

He began flipping over the pictures of one of the completed piles. He gestured for Sam to continue her work as she listened. He began organizing the images in what seemed like a random pattern.

"There's a bigger picture, one that no one thought of. Tucker, what does this look like to you?"

"A bunch of circles and squares and rec… Hang on a tic," he said, reexamining the image laid out for him. "It's a map of the circus."

* * *

><p>"That's," Tucker said, looking down at the pictures spread out before him. A look of disgust twisted his features as he held back a shudder. Kwan had run off to retrieve him shortly after the discovery. "I don't know how describe how <em><strong>disgusting<strong>_ that is. It's like… _**gah**_!"

"Here are the ones from this season," Danny said, laying out the newer photos over the older ones.

"Some of them don't have matches yet," Sam said, pointing to the last few pictures, who did not have a pair. Danny plucked them from the group.

"Okay, this is what we have so far."

"Whoever did that is pretty messed up," Tucker said. "I mean, carving a map of the circus in the bodies of dead girls? That's nuts."

"No shit, Sherlock," Sam said. She looked at Danny. "Right, Mr. Holmes, what do you think?"

"Let's check the dates on the back," he said. "Maybe there's a pattern that we can go off."

There was no pattern, even after comparing the dates to similar photos. The group sighed. Sam organized a list of the locations, years, and girls. They could only go so far back before realizing that at a certain point the layout of the circus changed.

"Okay," Danny said, "that's… informative."

"Look at it this way," Kwan said, "we know more now than we did ten minutes ago. There are certain things that haven't changed over the years. The main tent, the ticket booths, the Shooting Range, the Hall of Mirrors… You know, just to name a few."

"He's right," Sam said. "That's at least something. The larger attractions haven't changed. They've remained stationary after all these years."

"And the murderer started with only the ones that haven't changed," Tucker said. "He never started with anything else. Why is that?"

"They're all at different ends of the circus," Danny said. "They're like cardinal points on a compass. See the ticket booth is South, the main tent is North, the Shooting Range is East, and the Hall of Mirrors is West. I think that it's done so that even after all of these years, people can still easily navigate the circus grounds without getting lost. See, the main events take place in the North, gifts and odds and ends in the South, games in the East, and a few rides in the West."

"I hadn't ever thought of it that way."

"Okay, so that all makes sense," Sam said. "So, the murderer knows this, obviously, and knows that even after twenty or so years, nothing big would change. But why?"

Danny bit his lip as he thought. Why would anyone do that? It made no sense. Unless…

"He's trying to show us where he killed those girls."

* * *

><p><strong>Author stuff: So things happened in this chapter. Things. Things are amazing, aren't they? They just wiggle their way in and stay there, eating away at your brain... <em>Things<em>.**

**And, yes, Danny's middle name is Eisenhower. Why? ...I honestly don't remember anymore. I had a note for it in my notebook, but I can't find my plotting notebook anywhere. It was with my binder, but that went missing as well. That's probably a sign that I should clean my room. Again. XD**

**Anyway, until tomorrow, my turtle doves!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author stuff: Oh, I can't wait for you guys to see what happens next! These next few chapters are going to be oodles of fun — for me, of course. I can't _wait_ to see your reactions to what's going to happen next. **

**I uploaded this last night, simply because I couldn't wait. Things are really starting to pick up here.**

**I'll get to responding to everyone in a bit, so many of you to get to today! Really, all of you are truly amazing people.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Danny Phantom_. All legal rights belong to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Court of Stripes<strong>

**by iOc**

**Chapter 10**

_**Thursday, 24 October 2013**_

The group sat in silence as they thought about what Danny had just said: "_He's trying to show us where he killed those girls._" It made sense but as to why no one else picked up on it, well, that was the mystery.

"No one else knows about this," Sam said. "They haven't figured it out. No one knows the layout of the circus better than you guys. And why is that? Because you guys live and breathe the circus life."

"We're cirkies," Tucker said.

"Huh?"

"That's what we call ourselves, cirkies. It's an old name, but we still go by it. I don't know why, personally, but it's like carnies — people who work at carnivals."

"That makes… sense."

"But the question is, who's been here long enough to know that the map of the circus hasn't changed?" Danny said.

"Your family, Clockwork, the Fright Knight, Amorpho…" Tucker said, listing off everyone he could think of. "I know I'm forgetting someone."

"Freakshow?" Kwan said, offering a name at random. "That box guy… what's his name? Boxy?"

"Boxer," Tucker said.

"Right, Boxer. Spectra and Bertand, too."

"I don't think I've gotten to talk to any of them except the Fright Knight," Sam said. "He's pretty innocent, though. I don't think he could do it."

"You sure? He does swallow sharp objects for a living. He knows his way around them…"

"Pretty positive."

"Good," Danny said, "one less person to worry about."

"I can do more interviews tomorrow," Sam said. "Hit up the ones they brought up?"

"If you could get an interview with Clockwork," Tucker said, "you would be considered a goddess of some sort. He very rarely answers any questions."

"He did an interview with that one reporter."

"I wouldn't count that as a proper interview," Danny said. "She asked a few questions but didn't get any of the answers that she really wanted. He'd probably talk to you, though. I mean, you've been approaching this thing with a bit more tact, not asking people outright if they killed anyone. You've got the 'innocent college student' thing going on — kind of like an ingénue except, you know, you're smarter."

"Hey, Danny?" Tucker said.

"Yeah?"

"What's an 'on-gen-oo?"

* * *

><p>"I hate that I have school tomorrow," Sam said, checking the digital clock on her phone, her face lit up by an eerie green light. "Make that later today. In six hours."<p>

She groaned and flopped down on the floor right next to where she sat. Her eyes dropped heavily. She tapped her manicured fingernails on the now dark screen of her phone.

"You can go home if you want," Danny said. "We wouldn't blame you."

"I think we should call it a night," Tucker said. "We all have things to do tomorrow and it's not healthy to be up this late."

"We'll escort Sam to her car and then we'll go to bed. Sound good?"

"I told you before," Sam said, "I don't need a bodyguard — or a _**brigade**_ of bodyguards. I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself."

"And there is a murderer in the circus going after young women your age. It's the _**smart**_ thing to do."

"Fine, but you're carrying me again."

"Again?" Tucker said. Danny shot him a look that told him to keep quiet.

"Come on," Danny said, packing everything away into the notebook. "Got everything?"

"I should hope so," Sam said. "Ah, my jacket…"

"In the kitchen. We'll get it on the way out. We'll just have to be quiet. My mom and dad are probably already asleep. And Jazz… she should be out like a light."

The four of them slipped out of Danny's room as quietly as they could. Tucker kicked the wall, causing the others to shush him a little too loudly. They stopped dead in their track when they realized they weren't the only ones in the RV who were awake. Sitting at the kitchen table — reading a rather smutty looking romance novel and drinking a cup of steaming tea — was Danny's mother. Her short hair was pulled back, some of it pinned, and she was wrapped in the fleece robe that Jazz had gotten her for Mother's Day. She looked up at them and smiled.

"What are all of you still doing up?" she said. "And… Hello. I don't believe we've met. I'm Maddie Fenton, and you are?"

She stood up and walked across the small room to Sam, holding out her hand. Sam shook it and smiled.

"I'm Samantha Manson," she said. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Fenton."

"Are you from Amity Park?"

"Yes. I grew up here. I'm currently a student at Amity Park State University."

"Oh? What are you majoring in?"

"Veterinary Science, and I'm minoring in Biology. I have a minor in Photography, already."

"Ah! How exciting. I just barely finished college before I was swept away into the circus life."

"What did you major in?"

"Biological Chemistry. I was thinking about Biomedical Chemistry, but the school I attended didn't offer it at the time. Maybe I should go back to school. They have a lot of those classes online now, right? It'd be a smart move. And maybe I could minor in Education…"

"Mom," Danny said, interrupting her train of thought, "Sam has to go home now. She has classes in the morning, er, later today."

"Oh!" she said. "Alright. You kids be careful."

They herded out the door, Danny closing it quietly behind him. Sam waited patiently for him and then hopped onto his back when he was ready.

"I think you're heavier today than you were last time," Danny said.

"Real nice," Tucker said, "commenting on a lady's weight."

"I'm _**trying**_ to gain some weight," Sam said. "My nutritionist said I'm underweight for my age and height. If I don't gain at least ten pounds by the end of October, she's going to recommend several rehab clinics and hospitals for me to go and get some help."

"Is it really that bad?"

"I'm a vegetarian. I lost a lot of weight when I stopped eating meat and consuming dairy products."

"Wait, wait, wait," Tucker said, stopping. Danny and Kwan stopped to look at him. Sam rolled her eyes. "You don't eat meat or drink milk?"

"Nope."

"What's _**wrong**_ with you?"

"What's wrong about trying to be healthy?"

"Not eating meat is an abomination to nature."

"Let me guess," she said, "O blood type?"

"How… how did you guess that?"

"O blood types generally need more meat in their diets than other blood types."

"_**Anyway**_," Danny said, hoisting Sam further up on his back. She grunted as she was jostled. "Sam, do you have school tomorrow?"

"One morning class," she said. "But Star's in it. I can just get her to tell the teacher that I'm not feeling well or something and have her record the lecture."

"No, go to your class and then come here. Bring Star and Val, if they're able. We need all the help that we can get. Who knows who might be next."

"Maybe we should call the families of the deceased," Kwan said. "There might be something that we're missing. We know all of the girls came to the circus, and that the circus has been to a lot of those places before, at least once."

"…_**secrets**_ from me, are you?"

They stopped in their tracks upon hearing the voice. Danny ducked himself and Sam behind the trailer that just passed, Tucker and Kwan continued to the one directly in front of them. The dark-haired young man peeked around the corner, careful to keep Sam balanced. He could feel her lean with him, which almost made him tip over. She muttered a quickly apology to him.

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" said a second voice — the speaker was someone Danny recognized easily, Skulker. Even in the dark he could spot the large, muscled man. But the first man… He couldn't see around Skulker to identify him but Danny knew the voice. "It's not like I can keep doing this."

"We have almost a full week here," the first speaker said, "we don't need anyone getting suspicious. Daniel is already poking about, if he figures out what I've been planning since I joined —"

"He won't," Skulker said, "but that girl who's been hanging around… She's much more intelligent than she lets on."

"Yes, the nosy, little Goth girl. He's just like his father, I'm telling you. No matter _**what**_ Clockwork wants, Daniel won't be the one."

"How positive are you?"

"As positive as a man in my position can be. It's just for the rest of this season and then… well, there'll be some changes around here, I'll promise you that."

Skulker and the other man said their farewells in mumbles and walked away, leaving the four young adults to watch as they disappeared into the shadows, heading in opposite directions. Sam waited until they were both gone before racing over to where they had been standing. She plucked something off the ground and returned to them.

"A key," she said, holding up the small object for them to see. It was a slim thing, antique looking and brassy.

"Hopefully it won't be missed," Kwan said, taking it from her to examine it. After a moment he handed it back. "Best if you hold onto it. No one would really suspect you."

"But they know about me now. I'd be their first thought. I mean, who better to hide something than the girl who lives in town. One of you should hold onto it." She held it out for them, hoping one of the young men would take it from her. She cast them all pleading eyes. Danny looked away and sighed.

"Fine," he said, holding out his open hand.

"You'd be the next person they'd suspect."

"Yeah, well…" He took the key from her and stuffed it into his pocket. It was cold against hi leg, even though the thin fabric that made up the pocket of his jeans.

"One of us has to be responsible," Tucker said. "And Danny's the director, after all. Who better than the director to hold onto the key?"

"It's probably just a key to a private box or something," Danny said. "It might not even belong to Skulker or… whoever that was."

"He has a point," Sam said. "But I still think someone else should hold onto it."

"I'll give it to Jazz tomorrow. No one would suspect her — she likes her job too much."

* * *

><p><strong>Author stuff: Is it weird I don't remember writing some of this stuff? I mean, bits and pieces of this chapter were written in June of this year, but I don't remember it... It's not a comfortable feeling — especially since I watched the Shakespeare episode of <em>Doctor Who<em> today.**

**Anyway, the key. The key is important. The key will open things. The key will reveal all secrets. The key... I know songs about keys. They never end good.**

**Until tomorrow, turtle doves. You have until tomorrow to figure out what the key goes to.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author stuff: Okay, I'm going to have all my comments up here because the ending to this chapter was planned since the birth of this fic. I'm super excited to see the reactions to it.**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Danny Phantom_. All legal rights belong to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Court of Stripes<strong>

**by iOc**

**Chapter 11**

_**Friday, 25 October 2013**_

Danny didn't give the key to Jazz the next morning, in fact he left it in the jean pocket until sometime around eleven when his mother wanted to do some laundry. By then he didn't have time to run it over to his sister. Instead he looped a long strand of tooth floss through one of the holes at the top and hung it around his neck — for safe keeping.

He only had a few hours before he had to get ready for his first performance of the day and he really didn't want to spend the time thinking about the dearly departed souls. But he felt a sort of… _**duty**_ to them. They were patrons to his circus — his family's greatest work — and the only life he had ever known.

Grace Lord snapped him out of his thoughts, knocking on his door. He blinked at her, feeling foolish for having stood in the center of his room for nearly twenty minutes.

"Came to check up on your costume," she said. "Does it need a washing or mending or something?"

He look at it, draped on a few hangers off a bar next to his window. Since he had first arrived, he had subconsciously remembered to hang it up after every performance and spray it from time to time with a water-vodka mixture that a lot of cirkies and other performers used — it killed any bacteria that might make the costume stink. The costume could probably use a good Fabreezing.

Grace looked it over and nodded.

"You doing good, kid," she said, turning to look at him. When she saw his expression, her face softened. "Hey, what's wrong? You look kind of down."

"You remember that girl I found?" he said, sitting on his bed. She sat next to him.

"Yeah. Of course I remember — _**everyone**_ remembers. Something going on? Her parents suing you or something?"

"No, it's just…" Should he tell her? Maybe. Would he tell her? Probably. _**Could **_he tell her? Well, that he would just have to try out. "There were other girls, as in ten years' worth of girls just like her. I… I kind of took it upon myself to figure out who did it."

"Like a detective in those movies you like."

"Sort of, but…"

"Yeah, I know. It was your destiny to find that girl. Just ask Desiree, she knew long before you did that you would take up this task. Over one-hundred and fifty innocent souls are seeking peace and there is only one young man for the job."

Danny scrunched his nose. He never believed in "destiny" and all that crap. It was far too… _**illogical**_. None of it made any sense to him and he had no reason to believe in it. All of it was just a plot device in a film to help keeping things going. But if Desiree claimed to know something, he should probably look into it.

"I think I just might," he said.

"Good boy," she said, ruffling his hair. He swatted her hands away, earning a smile from her. "Hey, if you ever need anything, don't be afraid to ask me. I won't hesitate to help."

"Thanks, Grace. Really. Any help you give me or the others would be fantastic."

"Who's all involved in the Mystery Inc.? I know that girl — I've seen you two prancing about the circus grounds, everyone has by this time. Saw you carrying her on your back the other night. What a gentleman…"

Danny flushed and ducked his head, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"It's not like that," he muttered. Grace elbowed him in the side, waiting for him to continue. "It's me, Tucker, Kwan, and Sam — we're actively trying to solve things. Jazz helps out."

"She's your Velma."

Danny snorted and nodded, agreeing with what she said.

"Let's see, Kwan and Tucker are, probably, your Shaggy and Scooby. You are Freddy, obviously. And that girl — Sam, right? — she's your Daphne. Hey! Wasn't there a Scooby Doo episode set in a circus?"

"There might've been a few, for all I know." Danny said. "I never saw all the episodes."

"I don't think I have either, and I've been around a while." She chuckled and ruffled his hair. "I better go. See you later, Fenton."

As she walked out, Sam walked in. They nearly collided.

"Hey," Grace said, pointing to the young woman, "it's your Daphne!"

"My name's not —" Sam started to say but, before he could finish, Grace was gone. "What's up with the 'Daphne' thing?"

"Nothing," Danny said. "We were just discussing Sooby-Doo. According to her, you're Daphne."

"And who are you?"

"Er… Scooby."

"Right. Anyway, I think you need to go talk to Skulker. See what he's up to. Maybe ask for some knife throwing tips. Or something."

"Because he won't kill me or anything," Danny said. "I'm pretty sure he and that other man are planning on killing me. Them and Vlad and Freakshow."

"People keep mentioning him."

"Who — Vlad? He's my mentor."

"No, Freakshow. Who is he?"

"Who… Hold on, you've never met him?"

"Run into him, yeah, maybe. But I've never talked to him. I think I should."

"Why?"

"He might know a few things."

"About the girls?"

"Maybe," she said, trailing off into her thoughts. After a moment, she shook her head and looked at the digital alarm clock on his nightstand. "Do you have to get ready for your show soon?"

He checked and nodded. She patted his leg and left the room, allowing him the privacy of changing in peace. She did leave the door open a crack so that they could talk, however. He heard something plunk down on the floor — her purse? — and he heard her slide all the way down the wall.

"I was thinking of calling the girls' families starting tomorrow," she said. "Does that sound like a good idea? I mean, finding all of those records and everything is easier now with the internet and whatnot but some of that stuff is private."

"I was thinking of calling the families of the past two or three years," he said, shimmying out of his pants and shirt. He quickly slid into his costume. "I think we can get more than enough information from just them."

"You think so?"

"Well, they are the most recent and probably want to talk the most. I guess we could do the past five years or something. But that's a lot of people to call and we don't know if we can get everyone's numbers."

"I think I may know someone who can help," Sam said. "He's done some work for my family before, back when my mom thought my dad was cheating on her — he was, by the way. I still haven't forgiven him. Anyway, this guy is pretty good. He can get us the numbers and any other information we might need."

"You sure you want to hire someone?" Danny said. "Aren't we, I don't know, Mystery Inc.?"

"Even Mystery Inc. had outside help from time to time. They had Scrappy, remember?"

"Does he even count?"

"I have no idea."

They both chuckled and Danny got to work with his wig, contacts, and makeup. Comfortable silence passed between them. He could hear Sam hum a song he had never heard before. It sounded rather sad and mournful and had a sort of sobering rhythm to it.

"What are you humming?" he said.

"Hm?" she said. "Oh, 'Hitchcock Starlet' by the Horrorpops — kind of appropriate, all things considered. Hang on, I have it on my phone."

There was silence for a moment and then the song started to play. He was right about the song; it was on the sad side, even with the weird lyrics.

"What genre of music is this?"

"Psychobilly," Sam said. "It's like rockabilly but more punk."

"I have no idea what any of that means, but I like the sound of them."

"I have the CDs at my dorm. I could bring them by tomorrow. Play them while we work and whatnot."

"No thanks. Beside, who says I'll need your help tomorrow?"

"I do and what I say always goes."

"Uh-huh, and what makes you think I'll agree to it?"

"Oh, you don't have to agree," Sam said, "you just have to be here."

* * *

><p>After the second illusionist performance of the evening, and three hours after Skulker's knife throwing act — which Sam participated in, much to Danny's horror and her amusement — Danny decided it was time to talk one on one with the large man. But first, he had to ease the man into a more agreeable state of mind. As Sam had suggested, he decided to ask for knife throwing lessons — one never knew when these types of tricks could be handy, after all.<p>

"What do you want, halfa?" Skulker said, crossing his arms and cocking a brow.

"Er," Danny said, trying to find a way to word things. He was _**so**_ much better at this on paper than he was in person. "I was wondering, if it was possible…"

"Spit it out, whelp."

"Will you teach me how to throw knives? I've always kind of wanted to but I never had the courage to ask."

Skulker's face softened from the hardened scowl that usually marred his features. His normally set jaw was less angular but still the handsome boxy shape it always was — no wonder Ember was so taken with him. The man pulled out a pair of thick lenses glasses — one that should only have been worn in the 80s — and put them on. He looked rather ridiculous.

"Is that really why you want to learn?" he said. "Are you sure you have no ulterior motive for sending time with me?"

"Pretty positive." Danny said, scuffing the toe of his shoe on the grass.

"Where's that girl you've been hanging around? Shouldn't she be here?"

"She wanted to talk to Desiree. Wanted her fortune told, or something like that. I didn't fully understand what she said."

Shortly after Danny's final performance of the evening, Sam had gone off to find Freakshow to talk to him. She had, also, promised to talk to Desiree when she could. There was no doubt in his mind that she would end up at the fortune teller's tent before finding the ringmaster.

"Right," Skulker said, "first thing's first. There are three types of knives: blade heavy, handle heavy, and balanced. Us knife throwers use balanced, but beginners like yourself should use one of the other types. I have a few in a box…"

* * *

><p>Danny spent the rest of the evening learning how to throw knives. He managed to hit the target several times, mostly with the hilt. But, still, Skulker commended him for his first day's work.<p>

"I never would have been able to do that on my first day," the large man said, smiling only just slightly. "It took me a _**week**_ to hit the center or the target. I think, in a month or so, you could join me in a performance. Not aiming at any one, of course, just demonstrating how sharp the blades are and whatnot. If you ever plan on leaving the illusionist thing behind you, you'll always be welcome here."

"Thanks," Danny said, scratching the back of his neck. He checked his wrist watch for the time and balked. "I need to get going. Sam's waiting for me…"

"Ah, yes. The little Goth girl. So, that's her name. I'd been wondering that."

"Right, so."

"If you want to practice some more throwing, just stop by the tent any time."

Danny nodded and headed out, scanning the growing crowd for the familiar form of the young woman. She was short, which made locating her all the more difficult. After ten minutes or so, he decided to check Desiree's tent. Lo' and behold, she was talking to Desiree, shuffling a deck of long cards in her hands.

"…one more time," Desiree said. "We'll go with the — Ah, Daniel! Come in, sit down. I was going over the basics of reading the cards with this lovely young woman."

Desiree — Danny never learned her full name — gestured to a cushioned chair opposite Sam. He took it. The fortune teller was a curvaceous with well-tanned skin, green eyes and long, dark hair that tumbled down her back. She did not dress like the stereotypical fortune tellers in films — instead, she opted for a harem-belly dancer look, including a tinkling coin skirt and headdress. She was friendly enough, he supposed, but he never spent any time in her tent. After all, destiny wasn't something one could predict so easily.

"Right, Samantha," Desiree said, "read Daniel's future — for fun! Come on, Danny, come she what she's learned. Diamond shape should be sufficient enough."

Sam shuffled the cards and split the deck into three smaller piles, all facing him. Their green and yellow backs reminded him of dragon skin embroidered with gold stitches.

"Pick one," Sam said. Danny pointed to the one of the right. Sam shuffled it and held it out to him. "Tap it three times."

He cocked a brow at her, which she returned with a look that told him he should just go along with it. He tapped the deck three times and she laid the cards out — four of them in a diamond shape. She pointed to the different cards as she explained what each meant.

"This one, to your right, is your past," she said. "The one closest to me is your present. That one is your future. And the one right in front of you is what you should do."

"Right," Danny said, not really buying any of this.

She flipped over the first one she pointed to, his past. It was of a crumbling tower. Lightening slashed through a darkened sky. There was fire and two bodies and a crown.

"The tower," she said. "There was a change in your life at one time. You had to let something go in order to grow and become who you are. The change seemed frightening at first but it eventually led you to a content state of mind."

She flipped over the next card, the present. This card had ten, gnarled looking branches against a red sky alight with stars.

"Ten of wands, reversed. People are lying to you, plotting to betray you. They are making it difficult for you to proceed forward into something."

She quickly turned the next card, the future. This card had eight swords interwoven into a complex, Celtic knot-ish figure against a violet sky.

"Eight of swords, reversed. Danger, your hands will be tied behind your back. Something bad will happen. No one will be reliable, everyone will be seen as the enemy. Someone may die…"

Sam was frowning as she flipped the last card. On this one was a young woman tending to two water jugs. In the sky were big, bright stars in a constellation Danny couldn't name at the moment. Sam looked relieved to see this one.

"The star," she said. "Even if all things look bleak, don't lose hope. Have faith in yourself and everything will turn out alright. Like the stars, your hope will shine through the darkness and guide you safely to the other end."

* * *

><p>Even after the rather positive outlook at the end of the reading, Sam still trembled slightly. They ended up heading over to a food stand and getting caramel corn and lemonade — on Danny, of course. They sat down on one of the temporary benches in the park, trying to enjoy the snacks.<p>

"So, that was weird," Danny said. "Where'd you learn most of that voodoo stuff?"

"Tarot isn't voodoo," Sam said. "It was originally a card game, kind of like poker but different. The reading the cards thing started sometime around the Victorian Era. After that it became pretty popular, particularly in Hollywood films trying to make something look 'magical' or 'mystical.' Really, it just makes them look stereotypical nowadays.

"Voodoo is completely different. It's actually a religion from West Africa and developed in Haiti. It's still practiced today. Actually, voodoo is where zombies originally come from."

"Hey, maybe I should make a zombie murder mystery!" Danny said, looking at her excitedly. When he saw her annoyed glare, he turned back to the caramel corn. "Or not."

"It would be different. Maybe you could add, like, a zombie lobster monster from outer space or something."

"Yeah, my kinds of films sure come up with the zaniest ideas. And they work, too. Low budget rocks."

She snorted and rolled her eyes, taking a handful of the sweet corn. After a moment of silence, she said:

"Who do you think did it?"

"Did what?" he said.

"You know. With those girls…"

"Honestly, it could be anyone. Vlad is the most reasonable suspect for many reasons but Clockwork kind of fit's the bill, too. I don't know, I can't really think of who could have done something like that."

"Done something like what?" a voice from behind them said. They both jumped and turned to see Freakshow watching them. "Well?"

"Who tripped Kwan today during rehearsal," Danny said, thinking quickly. "Some of those guys are kind of jerks."

"Hm, interesting. Don't you have somewhere to be, Mr. Fenton?"

"Uh, not that I'm aware of. _**Am**_ I supposed to be somewhere?"

Freakshow sighed and pointed in the direction of the RVs.

"Your mother was looking for you," he said. "Something about finishing the laundry."

"Come on, Sam," Danny said, getting up. "I might need some help."

"What makes you think I know anything about laundry?" she said. She stayed sitting.

"You're a college student. I kind of assumed with you living in the dorms and whatnot…"

"I'm kidding, Danny. Yeesh." She stood and started to follow him, then she stopped. She turned back around to Freakshow and said, "Excuse me, Mr…"

"Showenhower," Freakshow said. "Not that many people in this circus seem to care."

"Mr. Showenhower. How long have you been with the circus?"

"Hm? Oh, over twenty years or so. I lost count after fifteen. It's been so long. Why do you ask?"

"No reason. Just curious is all." She grabbed Danny's arm and pulled him along until they were safely inside the RV area. "You hear that? Over twenty years."

"You aren't seriously thinking that **Freakshow**, of all people — I mean, yeah the guy's annoying and everything but he really just wants to own the circus. Anyone with two eyes can see that. I don't think he has it in him to… Well, you know."

"Which is why he makes the _**perfect**_ suspect. Danny, think about it."

"But… Okay, we'll add him to the list but I don't it was him."

"Good, now. Your mom wanted you to do laundry?"

"Why are you acting so normal and everything?"

"What do you mean?" she said.

"I mean, you go from claiming that someone is a murder suspect to talking about everyday tasks, like laundry."

"It's simple really. In all of the mystery books I've read, people have to keep up appearances, even if they're chin deep in solving a crime."

* * *

><p>Danny learned a bit about Sam while they did three loads of laundry — a rather tedious task but an entertaining way to spend four, almost five hours. She loved the smell of detergent and it made her sleepy, she was an only child of divorced parents, she read mystery novels and watched talkies because her grandmother did, she had a butt load of children's book series, and she had memorized all of the words and lyrics to Disney's <em>Beauty and the Beast<em> when she was four years old. She had to leave sometime after he was putting the last load into the dryer.

"Val's not feeling good," she said, reading the text. "She needs me to pick up some things from the Walgreens. She'd make Star do it but she's not answering."

"That's fine. I'll call you or something if I need your help."

"Do you have my number?"

"Uh, no. No I don't." He had lost it the day he had given the card to George at the ticket booth. Sure, Jazz had it but it would be nice to be able to contact her in the middle of the night without waking up his sister.

She whipped out a Sharpie from her bag and grabbed his hand. She quickly wrote down in her number clearly, capping the writing utensil when she was done. She waved goodbye and headed out, leaving him to stare, gaping, down at the spot she stood. His hand still tingled where her tiny fingers had grasped it.

He texted her that night, an hour or so after she'd left, but she didn't reply. In fact, he didn't hear from her again until the following afternoon when she called him. He'd set a classic 50s monster movie theme as her ringtone. He only let it ring once before picking up.

"Hey, Sammy," he said. He'd hoped the greeting would irk her and that she would tease him in retaliation.

"Danny?" she said. It was female, most certainly, but the speaker wasn't Sam. Who…?

"Yeah, who is this?"

"It's Val. Um, I don't know but — I was told to call you. Sam left a note…" Her voice was raising in pitch and starting to waver. "She never came home last night. She's missing."


	12. Chapter 12

**Author stuff: And here's the next chapter. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Danny Phantom_. All legal rights belong to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Court of Stripes<strong>

**by iOc**

**Chapter 12**

_**Saturday, 26 October 2013**_

"What — have you called the police?" Danny said, sitting down on his bed. Valerie had just called him as he was starting to get ready for his performance with Vlad. After having not heard from Sam all night, he had started to worry — it was as if he knew something was wrong, as if he could feel it… in his belly — and something _**was**_ wrong. Sam was missing!

"Tried that," Val said. "We have to wait twenty-four hours before they can do something. But they don't know her — they don't know Star like Sam and I do." Wait, what? "Danny, she _**never**_ stays out this long. If she does, she texts us. I'm really starting to worry."

"Maybe… maybe she's okay. Maybe she went home for the weekend and just forgot to tell you guys." Sam was safe. He felt good, relieved — like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. But then he slumped when he remembered that there was someone still missing. Star…

"Maybe, but she would have texted us."

"Val, take a few deep breaths and try to relax." He heard her breathe heavily a few times.

"Right, okay. Maybe she just forgot to text. I'll call her mom and see what she says."

"While you do that, I have to get ready. Working at the circus isn't all fun and games, you know."

"_**Please**_ don't crack any jokes while I'm practically having an anxiety attack."

"Okay, sorry. Is there anything I can do to help out?"

"Search the circus? I don't know. I can't think of any place good to hide someone."

Danny sat staring at the wall for a moment. His blue eyes shifted over to the mirror and the corner of his lip jerked up.

"I think I might have an idea," he said. "Get Sam and meet me at the main entrance after my second performance."

* * *

><p>"The Hall of Mirrors?" Sam said, looking up at the formidable building. She and Valerie looked miserable, but they were able to hold themselves together, somehow, in the public eye. Danny couldn't even begin to fathom what they were feeling at that moment.<p>

"Yeah," Danny said. "I mean, who'd think of looking here? It's all mirrors and a multi-floor leveled maze for the entertainment of the masses. Stairs that lead to nowhere, doors that open to a wall… it's all kind of the perfect place."

"Kind of a romantic idea, I'll give you that. Pretty sure that a psychopath used a maze with stairs leading to nowhere, doors that opened to walls, gas chambers, trap doors, et cetera… Pretty sure he was from the area, too."

"Hope you don't mind, but I asked Tucker and Kwan to join us."

"Not a problem. We could use the extra help."

Tucker and Kwan showed up a few minutes later carrying flashlights.

"I sharpened my pocket knife," Kwan said. "In case — you know — we have to cut the ropes that she's tied with. And to defend ourselves."

"What if she's chained?" Sam said. "Or what if the murderer has a _**gun**_?"

"You really think we're going to run into this guy this early?" Danny said. "If this guy has a flair for the dramatic, he'd wait until Halloween. That's when people expect to find dead bodies as props. It'd make it easier to hide her. And I'm not making this any better, am I?"

"Not in the least," Valerie said. She looked as if she wanted to punch him — and he didn't doubt that it would hurt — but was holding back for her sanity's sake.

"Wonderful."

"How about we go in, yeah?" Tucker said, gesturing to the door.

The five of them entered and the flashlights were clicked on. Tucker, who had the light pointed at eye level, got a full reflection back at his face. He cried out and covered his eyes.

"Okay," Sam said, "flashlights in a _**Hall of Mirrors**_, not exactly rocket science. Just… just point the light at the ground and away from reflective surfaces."

"Here, Danny," Tucker said, holding out the plastic end. "You lead the way. You know this place better than we do."

"Right," he said, taking the offered object. Danny secured it around his wrist and kept the beam of light pointed toward the ground in front of him. The metal plating that made up the floor did not reflect the light. It was rusting in places and chunks of dirt and grass dragged in from people's shoes were caught on the little treads. The air smelled metallic.

He lead them around to almost every place, sometimes having to backtrack when they reached a dead end and did not find anything, other times because they went in a circle. After a complete search of the first floor and the second floor, Tucker was convinced that they would find nothing.

"Can we just turn back?" he said, pouting. "There's nothing here. I don't know _**why**_ you'd thought anything would be here?"

"We haven't even reached the Silent Reaper Room," Danny said, frowning at his friend.

"Silent Reaper Room?" Sam said, raising a brow.

"_**Why**_ don't I like the sound of that?" Valerie said, tugging her red hoodie closer to her body — whether from being chilled or uncomfortable, Danny wasn't sure.

"Danny's favorite room," Tucker said, interjecting before Danny could get a word in. "All of the mirrors reflect in such a way, that they seem to go on and on forever. It's supposed to induce madness or whatever but I call bull."

"You always call bull," Kwan said. "Like the time with the snakes, or the time with the pyro technicians, or the time —"

"Yes, thank you, Sid. We didn't need a reiteration of everything."

"What? It's not like the girls know what I'm talking about."

"Noodle incidents aside," Danny said, "we only have one more floor. If we don't find anything, we can leave, okay? I don't think we'll need the flashlights up here. On good days like today, the vents are open."

Danny and Kwan clicked off their lights. The last two rooms were much more cramped. In the first room, there were stairs that went to nowhere and a door that opened up to nothing — there was a glass floor of it and mirror walls, nothing truly spectacular. The last room, the Silent Reaper Room, was exactly as Danny remembered it. There was nothing unusual or off putting about the familiar location.

"What's that?" Sam said, yanking the flashlight from Danny's wrist. She clicked it on and shone it at the spot she had seen. It was like the spot Danny had scraped off all those days ago — was it really only a handful of day ago? It felt like ages since then. "It doesn't look like dirt…"

She stuck the flashlight in her mouth — Tucker attempted to protest but was silenced almost immediately — and dug something out from her bag. There was a scraping of metal on metal, and then she was stowing something safely away in one of the pockets. She clicked off the flashlight and handed it back to Danny, not wiping off the traces of saliva and lipstick. He held it out, looking at her in confusion.

"Um, what?" he said.

"We're pulling some CSI crap," she said. "If this stuff is what I think it is, we just might have some very solid evidence that the girls actually died on the circus grounds."

* * *

><p>After that, Sam had to get back to the school campus. A call to Valerie informed them the police were willing to start looking in to the disappearance. They promised to stop off somewhere first to get the sample or whatever it was checked out and then head to their dorm. No other stops along the way, careful driving, and a call when they arrived safe and sound was all it took to comfort him.<p>

In the meantime, Danny pulled out the white notebook and flipped through his recorded notes. He joined Kwan and Tucker at his kitchen table.

"What's all that?" Tucker said, pointing to a list that went on for several pages.

"It's the name of all of the girls who died in the past five years," Danny said. "As well as their hometowns, what year they died, and where their bodies were found. I left room to write down their numbers. I don't know if everything is going to be available online or not, though."

"Let me look into it."

"What?"

"Let me look into it. I can do some computer hacking stuff and get the family's numbers and whatnot. New locations, too."

"Isn't that, oh I don't know, _**illegal**_?" Kwan said.

"Yeah, but we're not doing anything legal to begin with. I mean, we're all citizens taking on something the _**FBI**_ is probably looking into, and if we get caught with this information we could get arrested. Or worse — kicked out of the circus world for good!"

Danny's phone buzzed. It was a text.

"_**Half moon tonight. -Sam**_," it said. It buzzed again. "_**Just dropped the stuff off. I'm heading back to the dorms now. Should be there in 10 min. or so. Val's staying here in case we get any more info.**_"

"Dude, that's pretty weird," Tucker said, pointing to the phone.

"What?" Danny said, looking up incredulously.

"That Sam is texting you like that. It's like you're her overprotective boyfriend or something. Like, you're Edward and she's Bella."

"Can you _**not**_ watch terrible films?"

"It wasn't that bad!"

"Tucker," Kwan said, clapping his friend on the shoulder, "even _**I**_ thought that it was bad, and I have the worst taste in movies."

"But it's like _Romeo and Juliet_, except set in modern times."

"Okay, first off, _Romeo and Juliet_ is a tragedy that shows the shortcomings of rushing into romantic love too quickly," Danny said. "It's over romanticized and that needs to stop. Second, Romeo and Juliet's love was never forbidden by anyone besides Tybalt. Third, there was already an amazing _Romeo and Juliet _film set in modern times — which is closest to the original script, compared to all of the others ever made — and it stars Leonardo DiCaprio."

"Do you have a crush of DiCaprio?"

"Yes, yes I do. The man deserves an Oscar or five hundred. He has a classic look and I would love for him to be in one of my films someday."

"Okay," Kwan said. "Back in the circus, we're talking about corpses showing up and people dying."

They all paused and thought about it for a moment.

"This sounds like a Stephen King novel, if there ever was one," Tucker said.

"Agreed," Danny said.

"So, do you want me to find all that info for you?"

"Do you think you'll have time? I mean between rehearsals and performances and everything…"

"I can do most of it tonight. I'll start at the beginning and see what I can get."

"Good."

"And now that we have all that cleared up," Kwan said, "can we talk about your man crush of Leonardo DiCaprio, Danny?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author stuff: People were either completely oblivious to what I had planned or <em>thought<em> they knew what was going to happen. I never said it was Sam at the end of the chapter. I simply said "she." No implications to who that female was. I'm a clever old thing, I know.**

**So, lots of fun with this chapter and only a handful or so more left to go! Halloween is fast approaching. Are you ready?**


	13. Chapter 13

**Author stuff: Chapter 13 already? Why, it feels like just last week I was starting this. But it's been longer. Which feels weird to me. Huh.**

**And by golly, you guys are making this so much fun to post! You are all too wonderful for me.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Danny Phantom_. All legal rights belong to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>The Court of Stripes<strong>

**by iOc**

**Chapter 13**

_**Sunday, 27 October 2013**_

"You ever give Jazz that key?" Tucker said, shoveling out horse dung from the stall. Danny had decided to join him that afternoon, in between shows of course. He was dressed in his costume and prayed to whatever high deity there was that he didn't get anything on it — Grace was sure to strangle him if he did.

"No," Danny said, pulling it out from under the frilled blouse. He squinted at it, his contact lense obscuring his view of the object just slightly — he guessed that he might have scratched one, but he didn't have the opportunity, or time, to check before he had to go to the show and he wanted to check in with his friends. Tucker had yet to give him the list of numbers he needed to call the families of the girls, but he understood that his friend had his own work to do in the circus. Still, that wouldn't stop him from being anxious.

"You really should, you know. If you're the one caught with that thing, who knows what the owner would do to you."

Danny sighed and tucked the key away. It was safe, for the moment, to say that he wouldn't be maimed within the hour. Come later, after all of the guests had gone home… Well, some things were meant to be unpredictable.

"Can we talk about something else?" Danny said.

"Sure," Tucker said. "What's up with you and Sam?"

"What do you mean?"

"She's been here practically every day since the grounds opened for visitors. She hangs out at your RV late into the night. Even with one of her roommates is missing, she's here. What's up with that?"

"Nothing. She's here because she wants to be, and she wants to help the families of those girls find some sort of peace of mind."

"Do you think she knew someone who was killed?" Danny looked at him, frowning. He waited for Tucker to explain. "What I mean is, this has been going on for nearly ten years or so. We've been to Amity Park once before and maybe Sam knew someone who was murdered and she wants her own revenge for it."

"Then why wouldn't she mention that?" Danny said, his brows furrowing.

"Girls aren't straight forward about things. They like to hint and tease and make us men guess. It could be she's still grieving and isn't ready to really speak about things yet." Tucker shrugged, stabbing the shovel into the ground and leaning on the handle. "You could probably ask her and she might be willing to tell you. I mean, you of all people have this way of just… being. You sit there and you listen to people ramble — like now. Well, sort of. That costume is really throwing me off."

"You think I should ask her?"

"Or do some investigating on your own, but asking is your safest option. She looks like she could kill you just by looking at you."

"I'll… I'll think about it," Danny said. He checked his watch and sighed. "Have to get going now. I've got a show in ten minutes. Do I have any straw of me?"

"No, you're good," Tucker said and, as Danny walked away, he called out: "And you look like a girl!"

He could only laugh as he was flipped off.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Monday, 28 October 2013<strong>_

It was later that night of the following day when Tucker finally dropped off the list. He had managed to, somehow, get everyone's numbers and home addresses. The legality of the entire thing was beyond questionable, but Danny needed as much help as he could get.

"Sorry that it took so long," Tucker said. "There were some firewalls I had to blast down, but I managed to get every bit of information — including the names of every living relative who live in the current household."

"I'm beyond impressed," Danny said, flipping through the pages. There were lots of neon pink Post-It notes stuck on them. "Where'd you get these?"

"Sam. She came by earlier, just for a bit. She told me to tell you she might not be here for the next day or so. The police are questioning her and her friend a lot. Which brings me to this tasty little rumor. Word has it that the police will be stopping in sometime tomorrow morning for questioning. You're one of the people that they want to talk to."

"Oh great. This is _**just**_ what we need."

"What do you need?" Danny's mom said as she entered the RV. Danny shut the notebook unhurriedly so as to not draw attention to it.

"The police are stopping by tomorrow," Tucker said. Mrs. Fenton frowned.

"Is this about the girl again?"

"No, about a different girl. You remember Sam? The one who was over a few nights ago?"

"Oh! Is she missing? I could have sworn I saw her here yesterday… That breaks my heart. She's a nice girl…"

"Not her, her roommate — Starlin Moony —"

"Wait," Tucker said, "that's _**seriously**_ her name?"

"Hush," Mrs. Fenton said, shushing the young acrobat. "Continue, Danny."

"Anyway, Star's the one who's missing. I'm thinking she might have some connection to the girl that I found before, Emma L'Estrage."

"You think the man who killed Emma might kill Star as well." It was not a question and the serious look on her face told both young men that she was deep in thought. Her violet eyes were cast down at her hands, and she gnawed on her lower lip. When she looked up, she looked directly into her son's eyes. "Danny, promise me something."

"Sure, mom," he said softly. "Whatever it is, I'll do it."

"I want you to promise me that you'll be careful. I know that you have to go around and play 'superhero' and 'movie director' — or whatever —, but that doesn't mean you have to go and put yourself in danger."

"Mom —"

"Promise me, Daniel."

He opened his mouth to retaliate, to tell her she needn't worry — he'd be fine, honest! — but she was his mother and all mothers worry for their children. She couldn't help it. It was how they showed their children that they loved them, no matter what. He smiled and grabbed her hands.

"Mom, I promise that I will be as careful as I possibly can," he said. "Right now, we're in the middle of working all of this out. I think that we might be close to something but, at the moment, I'm not sure what it is. If you want to help, that'd be awesome. Starting tomorrow, if the cops don't come, that is, then I'm going to start calling the family members of the deceased girls. See if they have any clues or something we can work off. Bigger forces working together, you know?"

"Sorry, Danny," she said, squeezing his hands that were still holding her's. "I can't. I think… I think that this is something that you have to do. I know that you're still hurting from finding that girl, Emma. This is your way of trying to help her, and that's sweet of you. I'll make you kids food and do runs for you, but… this is your thing and you should take this journey on your own."

She smiled and got up, pecking both Danny and Tucker on the heads. She walked away, into her room, and out of sight.

* * *

><p>Hours later, after Danny had dressed for bed and called it a night, there was a tug at the back of him mind. Something was keeping him awake but, for the life of him, he couldn't remember what. So, he was stuck in a sleepless purgatory.<p>

He sat up and got out of bed, crossing the room to his desk. Makeup, application sponges, pencils, paper scraps, and pens littered the top. He cleaned them up and pulled out the notebook once more. He flipped through and look at the list Tucker had complied. It was still much too early to call anyone, but he managed to memorize a few numbers.

He went back to the pictures and matched them up with the telephone numbers and addresses. After he had done that, he neatly packed them together, and he set the ones for the past five years in one stack and the others in another. One slipped out and drifted slowly down to the floor. Danny picked it up and went to set it in the second pile, but then he stopped. He turned it over and read the back, trusting the twisted feeling in his stomach.

"_Robina 'Robby' Baldwin — October 2003, Amity Park._"

Danny rubbed his chin, feeling the slight stubble of a growing beard — he would have to shave in the morning. Robina Baldwin. The name didn't _**sound**_ familiar, but maybe it would mean something to Sam or Val. He checked the clock. It was still too early to call anyone, but he could handle a throttling from Sam. He hoped.

He quickly dialed Sam's number and listened to the ringing. He half hoped she would answer, the other half? Hoped she wouldn't kill him when she answered. Just as it was about to go to voicemail, a groggy voice from the other end of the line said:

"Hello?" It was Sam, it had to be.

"Sam?" he said.

"Danny? What…? Why are you calling? It's… Jesus fuck, it's only three in the morning!"

"Sorry, but I have to ask you a question."

"It couldn't wait until later?"

"Later might be too… late. Or something like that. Look, this has been on my mind since this afternoon when I talked to Tucker."

"Just ask the question, Danny."

"Do you know someone named Robina Baldwin?"

A noise, scratching on the window screen, made him jump and look at his window. He caught sight of a shadowed figure leaping away and disappearing from his line of sight. Before he could hear Sam's answer, he set his phone down and dashed out of his family's RV. He looked both ways and didn't see any retreating figure or any movement save for the wind in the trees and tall grass.

The soft pitter patter of feet from inside the vehicle made him whirl around. Behind him was a nightgown wearing Jazz, cell phone pressed to her ear. Her long, red hair was braided and she looked tired. Her eyes were wide — frightened, he realized.

"Yeah, got him," Jazz said into her phone. "Don't worry, Sam. I'll see what's up… Yeah, thanks for calling me… See you tomorrow — later today."

She tapped the phone's screen and it went dark. Her eyes returned to her brother and he frowned.

"What are you doing?" she said.

"Sorry," Danny said. "There was someone at my window. I think…"

"You don't think it's…"

"Maybe, I'm not sure though. It could be someone working with him."

Jazz sighed and rubbed her temples.

"Danny, if you're going to keep doing this, you better figure out who the murderer is fast. If they've identified that you are trying to find them, something _**bad**_ can happen. Not just to you, but to those around you. And I know that you'd hate that."

"We don't need to worry about that right now," he said. "What we need to worry about is hiding the notebook. Whoever that was saw it, and most definitely knows that I'm onto them. The fact that we've narrowed our suspects list down considerably with Sam's fake article interviews is dangerous already. But I still have a list. If that person learns that they're on it, shit's going to happen. If they're not? We might be in the clear for a while."

"Let's go inside and discuss things," Jazz said. "It's not smart, talking out in the open like this."

"Jazz?" a voice from inside said. "Danny? What are you two doing out? It's just after three in the morning."

Maddie and Jack Fenton came out, joining their children under the setting moon and the sparkle of the stars.

"What's happening?" Jack Fenton said, wielding a baseball bat. "I have my Fenton Anti-Creep Stick and I'm not afraid to use it!"

"Nothing," Jazz said. "Danny just… had a bad dream and he needed some fresh air. Right, Danny?"

"Uh…" Danny said, looking between his pressing sister and his concerned parents. "Yeah. Bad dream. Ghosts were involved — the weird kind. One kind of looked like Dora, only she became a dragon or something. I really don't remember. Bad dream. Creepy nightmare. Flying ghost-dragon-thing. Yeah."

"Are you sure you'll be fine?" his mother said, setting both hands firmly on his shoulders. She tried to make him meet her eye, but he looked away.

"I'll be alright. Just needed some fresh air, like Jazz said."

"Alright, so long as you're sure." She guided him back inside, father and sister following. He was nudged into his room and told to get as much sleep as he needed for later in the day. He didn't get much sleep, however. His dreams were full of shadowy figures, chasing him around with sharp knives, and bodies of girl strewn in the forests. Star was amongst them.

* * *

><p><strong>Author stuff cont'd: Plenty of new questions are arising. Will Danny give Jazz the key? Will Jack ever use his Anti-Creep Stick? Who is Robina Baldwin? Who was at the window? (I <em>swear<em> that that wasn't inspired by Michael Jackson...) And why am I still asking questions?**

**Well... I'm hungry and I need to pick up something from the library, so I'm going to go do that and leave you pondering.**

**Until tomorrow,  
>iOc<strong>


	14. Chapter 14

**Author stuff: And I had a late start to my day, but I'm posting this a few minutes early. XD **

**Anyway, I'll respond to everyone later. I would do it now, but I have a review to complete before class starts. I'm almost done with finance and then move on to stats. Which is, oddly, very easy for me. At least it's not trig...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Danny Phantom_. All legal rights belong to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Court of Stripes<strong>

**by iOc**

**Chapter 14**

_**Monday, 28 October 2013**_

The police arrived early that morning — far too early for any decent cirky to be up and about, with the exception of Jasmine Fenton, who was up with the sun even on a bad day. She was the one who greeted them and entertained them until Clockwork was awake and ready for them. All Danny knew was that by the time his first performance had ended, they were just leaving Clockwork's office as he entered to talk to his sister. The two officers looked at him, startled by his appearance.

"Ah, Daniel," Clockwork said. "Gentlemen, this is Daniel Fenton — albeit in costume. He's one of our top performers here. His family — on his paternal side — has a history with circuses and performing. Generations have sawdust in their blood. You, my good sirs, are standing in front of circus nobility."

Danny shifted uncomfortably under their gaze. 'Nobility'? He hardly thought so, but — then again — his family never really thought much about their history beyond their predecessors being criminals who became circus folk to hide from the law. He almost snorted when he heard the policeman's response.

"Do…" one of the policemen said. "Do we… bow?"

"No, generally people drop to the ground, do a somersault, and then pop back up."

Both police officer's looked at him, incredulously, unsure of what to do. They looked back at Danny, who — holding back a smile — shrugged. Let them do that they wanted. If they believed the circus owner… Well, Amity Parkians were gullible — with the exception of a few noteworthy young women.

"Don't worry about it," Jazz said from her desk. "Clockwork has older blood and we don't do that kind of stuff. He's just pulling your leg."

The men looked between the three cirkies, eyebrows hidden under the brims of their hats. They weren't quite sure who to believe. Clockwork smiled his all-knowing smile and nodded to Danny.

"I do believe you men were about to go question this young man," the circus owner said. Danny looked at him, surprised. There was something sad about him — maybe it was the fact that he had just been questioned for several hours or maybe it was the fact that he was retiring soon. Danny couldn't place his finger on it.

"Would you like to use my office for some privacy?" Clockwork gestured to the room behind him. Neither policeman seemed comfortable being in that same room again, but their current job was a necessity. The nodded and waited for Danny to enter before they did. Danny looked at Jazz and handed her the notebook. He gave her a look that told her to read through and do something specific before going in. He sat down on one side and they on the other.

"Alright," one officer said, "I'm Lieutenant William Jenkins and my companion is Officer Marshall Collins. And you are?"

"Daniel Eisenhower Fenton," he said. "I'm twenty-three years old. Not sure where I was born, but I was raised on the road — like any other cirky."

"A what?" Collins said, cocking one brow.

"Cirky. It's like carnie but, you know, in the circus."

"Makes sense, I suppose."

"Any siblings?" Jenkins said.

"A sister, Jazz. She's the secretary out there. Our parents are clowns. Literally." He watched as Jenkins jotted some stuff down, waiting for more questions.

"Right, so. What do you do here?"

"Up until I was fourteen I was training to be a clown — follow in my family's footsteps. The circus is full of traditions, one of which is family members all participating in the same act, otherwise we never get to see one another."

"So, what'd you do?" Collins said, a little smirk pulling on his lips from under his moustache that looked rather ridiculous on him — like it was too long and too close to the handlebar moustache. "Why'd you quit 'clowning around'?"

The way he was holding back his laughter made both Danny and Jenkins roll their eyes. After a moment, Collins straightened himself out when he saw they didn't share his humor — or appreciate it.

"I was offered an opportunity to become the apprentice of our illusionist, Vlad Masters," Danny said.

"And how does he treat you?"

"Not bad." Danny shrugged. "I'm worked hard but I learn a lot."

"What do you do for fun?" Jenkins said.

"I write screenplays and film them. They're all pretty short, no more than forty minutes at the most. Other cirkies are my actors. They're all kind of… cheesy noir films."

"So, you like mysteries?"

"Yeah, they're fun to solve."

"And had you looked into the Emma L'Estrange case?"

"A little bit," Danny said, trying to come across as truthful as possible. "I… I wasn't handling finding a body very well — especially in that condition — and it was a way of coping, I guess."

"How much do you know about it?"

"Not much, just that she wasn't the only one. There was a woman who died here in Amity Park years ago. She was found shortly after the circus left…"

"Robina Baldwin," Collins said. "We were in the same graduating class. A tragedy, really."

"Do you know much about that case?" Jenkins said, looking at Danny expectantly.

"No, just her name and that she was found in this general area," Danny said.

"I believe you may be acquainted with her niece, Samantha Manson." Jenkins pulled out a picture of Sam — a younger picture, one from high school by the looks of it — and waited to see Danny's response.

"Yeah, I know her. Her roommate went missing a few days ago. She didn't return home that night."

"Does Miss Manson come here a lot?"

"She does, almost every day when she can. It's a circus, so she has fun here."

"From what Valerie Grey said, you two have become good friends."

"Sort of. You mentioned that she was the niece of Robina Baldwin?"

"Yes, has she not mentioned it?"

"No," Danny said. "No, she hasn't."

* * *

><p>The next hour passed quickly, much to Danny's pleasure. He was pretty positive that the policemen were relieved as well. They left to go talk to a few more people — he heard Vlad and his parents' names mentioned — not wanting to be in the office longer than they deemed necessary. When they were gone, he looked at Jazz. She was on the phone with someone — her voice was soft and concerned. She nodded a few times, as if they could see her, and then bid them farewell.<p>

"I got through to three people," she said. "One mother refused to talk about it; the other two families were much more willing."

"Thanks, Jazz," Danny said. "I know you have a lot of work and everything, but this means a lot to me that you're doing all of this work."

"No problem, little brother. What's a big sister for?"

"Besides annoying me and stealing my teddy —"

"Bearbert is _**not**_ your teddy!"

"— and giving me good advice?" He moved to take the notebook, but she pulled it back from his grasp.

"Nuh-uh," she said. "I want to do this. The legality of it all is beyond questionable, but I have a feeling more people would be willing to respond to a female's voice than a male's. Especially in concerns of a deceased family member who was murdered."

"Jazz, really —"

"Go, Danny. I've got this. You go and figure some other things out. You're the detective in this story. See what you might be missing."

"Alright, fine," Danny said. "I have to call Sam anyway. She's been withholding information about one of the, uh, well… you know."

"She has?"

"Don't worry about it. I've got this covered. Sam will talk to me about this… stuff. I know she will."

_She just _**has **_to._

* * *

><p>One ring. Two rings. Three rings… A fourth and a fifth, then…<p>

"Hello?"

"Sam?"

"Hang on a sec." Muffled voices, steps, and a closing door. "Yeah. Hey, Danny, look I don't have a lot of time —"

"I know, I know. But, Robina Baldwin."

"Yeah."

"Your aunt?"

A pause.

"Yeah."

"Is she the reason you wanted to get involved in all of this?"

"Part of it."

"Any other reasons I should know?"

"I… Look, Danny, I really don't want to talk about that. Yes, Robina Baldwin was my aunt. Yes, she died the last time the circus was in town. Yes, she's the main reason I wanted to get involved. But any other reason I can't talk about. Not yet, anyway."

"Do you ever think that you'll want to talk about them?"

"Maybe someday, probably not anytime soon. I really have to go, Danny. I have class right now."

"Alright, fine."

"I'm sorry, you know that, right?"

"Sure, whatever."

"I'll stop by later…"

"If you want."

"Bye."

"Bye."

* * *

><p>Sam did stop by his family's RV after school, though she did not appear as chipper as usual. She had dark circles under her eyes — not from her makeup, she had forgone any — and her hair was down. She wore sweats, ones with her school's name printed on them in bright colors. And her nails, usually coated in black polish, were bare and chewed down to the pinks. Appearances can say a lot about people and — while Danny was angry at her for hiding a bit of information from him — he couldn't deny that she was stressed and needed some relief.<p>

"Val and I started to organize a search party," she said. "We have half the student body wandering through the local forests when they can. It's a terrifying thought that Star might be… but it's one we need to be prepared for, you know?"

"How much sleep have you gotten?" he said, leading her to the kitchen table.

"Not much. Three, four hours in the past two days." She yawned, hiding her mouth behind the back of her hand.

"That's not healthy."

"Yeah, well, one of my roommates was taken a few nights ago by someone who is undoubtedly going to brutally kill her if we don't find her soon. I don't see you panicking, Mr. Movie Director."

"I'm trying to take this as Hitchcock does," Danny said. "I'm looking into all of the fine details, but I'm still missing something. It's like, something's slipped through my fingers or I'm turning a blind eye on an important detail that I know."

"Have you called any of the families yet?" Sam said, resting her forehead on her arms that were crossed on the table.

"Jazz volunteered for that. Apparently she has the time at the moment."

"Let's focus on Star's case. We both know her personally, so maybe we'll come up with something." Danny nodded and Sam dug out a few pieces of paper and a pen. "Alright, Star is twenty-one, female, blonde, and outgoing. Kind of a giant flirt, likes to borrow my heels from time to time, and enjoys having a good time."

"That probably describes most of the girls on the list — you, minus the blonde thing. That's one detail they don't have in common."

"So, female, outgoing, flirtatious, and likes having fun. What else?"

"The bodies are carved up and they make a map of the circus —"

"Which I still find gross beyond anything else."

"What about height? How tall were most of these girls? Maybe that's something."

"No, all of them were different heights and weights. That has nothing to do with it."

"Hm," Sam said, humming as she thought. "The circus has been to all of these places before, right? Maybe that has something to do with it?"

Danny sat up.

"Sam, what happened that evening?" he said. "Do you remember? Did Star say or do anything to anyone?"

"She insulted someone, I don't remember who, though…"

"That… Do you remember anything about them? Their appearance? Something?"

"Not really, no. Sorry."

He sighed and rolled his shoulder while he thought.

"That's fine," he said. "We'll… we'll think of something."

* * *

><p><strong>Author stuff cont'd: I hadn't written an all conversation scene since... one of my oneshots for <em>Soul Eater<em>. And that was back in 2009, 2010? Yeah, sounds about right.**

**And my reveals for this chapter. How many of you saw that coming? I sure didn't, when I was writing this. **

**Until tomorrow! (Though, some of you will be hearing from me much sooner. XD)**


	15. Chapter 15

**Author stuff: *yawns* I'm rather tired today. I'm partially tempted to go back to bed, but my brain's bursting with a fanfic idea. So... I might spends some time writing. Or thinking about it and writing the ideas for it down. **

**...or spend five hours on tumblr...**

**Whatever works.**

**Before I forget, there's a bit of swearing in this chapter. For those who don't know me very well, I wear. A lot. If you check my tumblr and read the tags you'd see. I meant to edit it out but I never got around to it. And I like it. Just so you're aware.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Danny Phantom_. All legal rights belong to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Court of Stripes<strong>

**by iOc**

**Chapter 15**

_**Tuesday, 29 October 2013**_

"What do you think you're doing?"

Danny jumped and turned to see Freakshow glaring at him. He had been attempting to sneak into the illusionist's tent — not that he ever really needed to sneak in, but he needed to be subtle about poking around.

"I'm allowed in here," Danny said.

"And yet you are sneaking about like a thief, and at this hour of the morning. Up before eleven, Mr. Fenton, is not normal for a young man your age."

"I woke up early and wanted to practice with some of the new equipment." He was thankful that Vlad had actually bought some new props to be used during their performances at the start of the season. They hadn't integrated them in but next year showed lots of promise — well, until Danny found that girl, that is.

"The police will be here within the hour to search the circus grounds. They seem to believe that the new missing girl is here. I wonder why. Could it be, Mr. Fenton, that you played the Pied Piper and led her to her death?"

Danny frowned. He had not, initially, been the one to bring Star to the circus, but he had unwittingly brought her there a second time.

"I didn't see your friend leave last night," Freakshow said.

"Yeah, it was pretty late, later than usual," Danny said. "She slept in Jazz's room."

A complete lie. Sam had taken his bed, being too exhausted to drive all the way back to her dorm, and he had taken the floor right next to her. He had made sure to tightly close his blinds before falling asleep as a safety precaution.

"Well," Freakshow said, "I'd best let you get on your way. Practicing, was it? Hope to see a great improvement from this season's performance. Tah-tah!"

Danny watched as he slinked away, chuckling to himself over something or other. He shook his head and ducked into the tent. Finding it empty, he began to poke around for anything he could use to prove Vlad's involvement with the case. Almost everything was unlocked — the cedar chest that was carved in ornate, interweaving Celtic patterns was the only thing he wasn't able to open.

He was about to pull the key out from under his shirt when the tent flaps fluttered. He turned around, panicked. Sam stood there, looking disheveled but well-rested, her arms out to her sides, hands parallel to the ground, and on her tiptoes. She looked… weird in the clothes she borrowed from Jazz. They were too bright and colorful — or maybe he just preferred her in the dark, Gothic clothes.

"Sorry," she said in a quiet voice. "How goes the search?"

"Remind me again why we waited this long to look in the performance tent?" he said, running his hand along the lid of the box.

"The police are coming today and if we didn't do it now, we might never find something that could help us."

"Why do the police think Vlad killed those girls?"

"He's one of the few who've been at the circus the longest, and all of the girls have been to the show numerous times — not to mention, they all attended the performance when they were younger."

"Yeah," Danny said, "but we only got that information from the first seven families."

"That should be good enough information, right? I mean seven out of how many?"

"…one hundred and sixty something."

Sam gaped. Her eyebrows scrunched up and she squinted, pointer finger out and doodling on an imaginary chalkboard as she did the math.

"Well," she said, "fuck berries."

"I dearly hope you won't use that kind of language when the circus opens," a voice entering the tent said. It was Vlad. He wasn't dressed for performance — Danny rarely saw him out of costume anymore. Most of their rehearsal time was spent in dress. "And I do hope you haven't… soiled anything with your _**romantic rendezvous**_."

Danny wanted to snap something at him, but he always became tongue tied when he was flustered. He looked at Sam, who seemed to be experiencing similar technical difficulties.

"We're not…" Danny said, trying to form a coherent sentence.

"We haven't…" Sam said. She looked up at him, her cheeks brightening — his ears and neck, no doubt, appearing very similar.

"Yes, yes," Vlad said, "whatever you say. Just be sure to clean up after yourselves. Now, if you two don't mind, I would like to make sure that everything is in order for the performance today."

"We were," Danny said, trying to remember what he told Freakshow.

"You were…?"

"Going to borrow some of the new equipment," Sam said. "That's why we came here. I wanted to see how the magic is done, and Danny offered to teach me a little."

"Right," Danny said. He looked around and plucked something off one of the many shelves — he paid no attention to what it was. "Got it. Let's go."

They stalked out of the tent as quickly as their legs would carry them, heaving a sigh of relief when they were back outside. They barely made it to the next tent when Vlad called them back.

"Don't forget to return it when you're done," the illusionist said.

* * *

><p>When the police arrived everyone was told to go to the main tent — Sam managed to sneak out the way she snuck in several days ago, when Danny "rescued" her from Tucker, over the fence. The search, they were told, might take a few days. This ruffled everyone's feathers. The Halloween show, every year without fail, was their biggest source of income and without it, they were sure to lose several acts in the next season. The police started the search in the RVs.<p>

"We are looking," Officer Marshal Collins said, "for evidence that the girl is being kept somewhere on the premises or for a murder weapon — particularly, a straight-edged blade roughly seven inches long."

Danny blinked. He could only think of one blade — the one Vlad had lost during the poker game not too long ago. He tried to think of someone who could have won it. Someone who'd been around longer than Vlad. Someone who was good at gambling. Vlad had several poker buddies. Skulker and the Fright Knight were pretty standard at the table, Clockwork was known to join in from time to time, Danny's own father was enthusiastic and always willing to play, and… who else?

He scanned the crowd and spotted Freakshow, who was far too calm about this whole thing. The albino waited patiently, sitting there as one by one cirky was called away so that they may oversee the inspection of their living quarters.

"Are you alright?"

Danny turned and looked to see Dora watching him with calculated stare. She was frowning, her brow crinkled. She was genuinely concerned, he knew. He had barely spoken to her the entire time they had been in Amity, and they usually talk daily.

"Yeah," he said, "just peachy. How about you? Sad that you won't be able to perform today?"

She shrugged.

"Not particularly," she said. "Aragon twisted his ankle during a performance yesterday — mind you, he kept performing until the end, which made it worse. Clockwork has asked us to sit out until a replacement could be found. You wouldn't happen to be interested would you? I heard how you tried out knife throwing…"

"Sorry. Fire and me, we don't really get along very well. I'd end up burning the whole place down. I set _**soda water**_ on fire, once."

She chuckled.

"Where is Aragon?" he said.

"Down near the front, beside Freakshow."

"Speaking of Freakshow…"

"Yes?"

"Has he been acting… different lately?"

"What do you mean?"

"Differently, you know, not really himself. He's been… more assertive lately."

"He has been since that poker game."

"Poker game? What poker game?"

"There was a poker game several years back," she said. "Actually, I think it was eleven… twelve years ago, or something like that. Anyway, he and Vlad got into some high bets. I don't remember what he won, but he was pretty excited about it."

It was then that people were called forward to lead them to their RVs. It was an all-day affair that lasted well into the next morning. The performance went as scheduled — much to everyone's relief — but there was still the stress of something being found. Evidence or clues of any kind that would prove a person's guilt or their innocence.

It was well after three when the alarm was raised. Something had been found. Word spread like a wildfire in the dry, Californian summers. He'd mostly been asleep on his feet when he heard the news.

Danny — as well as the rest of his family and co-workers — rushed to see who the guilty party was. They wound themselves in and out of RVs and then tents. People got out of his way, murmuring when they saw him, when he reached their destination. It was an all too familiar tent. Officer Marshal Collins was snapping the handcuffs on the wrists of the suspected man, who did not fight but instead scanned the crowd for a familiar face. They landed on Danny and the frown deepened.

"Vladimir Masters," Collins said, "you are suspected for the kidnap and murder of several women."

* * *

><p><strong>Author stuff cont'd: Bum bum bum! My endings are getting twistier. <strong>


	16. Chapter 16

**Author stuff: So, I'm posting this right before a test. Don't have much time to comment on anything but I will get to responding to you lovely folks later today.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Danny Phantom_. All legal rights belong to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Court of Stripes<strong>

**by iOc**

**Chapter 16**

_**Wednesday, 30 October 2013**_

The circus was all abuzz the next morning — well, later that day — as was Amity Park. Protestors were at the gates, demanding to know why Clockwork housed a murderer for all of those years. Sam came bearing the local paper, holding it up to him with worry in her eyes, pushing and shoving — violently, from time to time — through the crowd.

"Is it true?" she said, her violet eyes wide. "Did he actually do it?"

"I don't think so," Danny said, inviting her into his family's RV for privacy — several cirkies were glaring at her. They sat down at the kitchen table. His mother placed plates of pancakes and bacon in front of them. Sam placed the bacon of Danny's plate without thinking. She wiped the grease off on her skirt and then starting tearing a pancake apart, dipping it in the butter flavored syrup. His mother set cups of orange juice next to their plates and paper napkins. She did not discourage Sam's behavior, as she would have if it was her son.

"What do you mean?"

"Something Dora said to me yesterday before they started searching the premises. She said something about a poker game a while back."

"Poker game? Cirkies have poker games? I never knew that."

"Yeah, yeah, we're humans. We gamble on things and whatnot. Anyway, she mentioned this poker game and how Freakshow had been acting after it. Vlad lost that knife in that game."

"You think Freakshow won the dagger."

Danny nodded.

"Well," she said, "we need to find proof if he's our new suspect."

"But _**how**_?" he said. "This is the part of the movie I usually stop watching. All of the endings are the same after the criminal is caught."

"But this was an unexpected plot twist, one you didn't prepare for."

"Exactly."

"So, we find evidence. It can't be too hard."

"She's right, you know," his mother said, adding more pancakes to Sam's empty plate. They had been five decently sized ones, and she had managed to polish them off without batting an eye. Danny had just gotten started on the first quarter of the stack — smothered in syrup and butter, just as he liked. "It shouldn't be too hard. Freakshow will be too busy overseeing the set up for tomorrow's festivities. He shouldn't be in his RV for at least the next seven hours."

"But what if he comes back early?" Danny said. "What if he comes back, and we're still there? The guy is our suspect now."

"I highly doubt he will return early. He'll be cocky. He'll think he's in the clear because the police already got their man — well, at least they _**think**_ they do. If he starts to head back, I'll have your father cook up a distraction."

"Oh yeah. How's Dad handling it?" Seeing Sam's curious look, he explained. "Vlad and my Dad have been friends for as long as anyone can remember. They used to have a clown act together. After Dad met my Mom, things changed."

"The reason why you thought Vlad did it —"

"Is no longer relevant. Freakshow has been getting sloppy if other people have been noticing his strange behavior."

"So, what do we do first?" Sam said. "Hit up Freakshow's RV or wait a while until we're sure he won't return and do something else?"

Danny bit his lip and thought. He settled his mind and nodded.

"We're going to do something else."

* * *

><p>"Right," Danny said, looking at the gathered faces, "everyone knows why they're here?"<p>

Sam had wrangled a large group together. Tucker, Kwan, Jazz, Grace, and Val all sat in various places around the kitchen. Jazz was perched up on one of the countertops, Tucker and Kwan were camped out on the floor next to her feet, Grace and Val sat at the kitchen table — freshly cleaned by his mother, and Sam was gathering his notes from his room. She reappeared a moment later, carting with her everything they needed. In the short time that she had, she managed to put together a makeshift poster of all of the gathered information. Where she had gotten the construction paper, he hadn't the faintest but it worked.

Everyone grimaced at the state of the bodies in the pictures. Jazz shuddered, Grace and Tucker blanched, Kwan looked down at his feet, and Val… Val's eyes began to well up with tears. She blinked them away and focused on the subject at hand.

"I'm kind of confused as to why I'm here," Grace said, raising her hand.

"I'll get to that in a moment," Danny said. "So, everyone knows the details of these girls, correct? All of them were found murdered after the circus — _**our**_ circus — came through their town. They all have something in common."

"Like what?" Val said, wrinkling her brow as she thought.

"They've all been to the circus before," Sam said. "Jazz's got some proof, right?"

"Yeah," she said, "the families confirmed it, too. I just got off the phone with the last father before you guys called me here."

"But other than that, what connection do they have?" Grace said.

"They all insulted someone here," Sam said.

"So, this guy has a grudge on them because as little girls they insulted him?"

"I think there's more to that," Danny said. "The exact reason is something I haven't figured out yet. Mommy issues? Always being sexually rejected by women? The list is endless, when you think about it. But one thing's certain. He's still in the circus."

"Wait," Grace said, frowning, "so you're telling me this guy is still here? Vlad didn't do it?"

"Vlad's completely innocent," Sam said.

"So," Val said, crossing her legs and folding her arms on the table, "who did it?"

"Frederich Isak Showenhower," Danny said, "also known as, Freakshow."

"That creepy albino dude with the attitude?"

"I knew it," Kwan said, banging his fist on his knee. He winced, rubbing his hand. He muttered something about being boney.

"Which brings us to why we — Sam and I — called you guys here," Danny said. "We're going to need some help digging out any proof of Freakshow's guilt. Our plan is to sneak in while he's busy, keep someone as lookout in case he comes back — Grace, think you can handle it? — and then get back to helping set up for tomorrow. We _**have**_ to find something the police missed, something they wouldn't think is out of the ordinary."

"I'm down for it," Val said. "If it'll bring Star back to us, I'll be all over it like cheese on pizza."

"I could go for some pizza right now," Kwan said, wistfully. Catching the look everyone gave him, he shrugged it off.

"Right," Sam said. "Val, Tucker, you come with Danny and me. Kwan, Grace, you two can play lookout. Are we ready? Okay, let's blow this popsicle stand."

Before anyone could respond, a knock on the RV door alerted them to a visitor. Sam grabbed the board and hustled into Danny's room to hide it. She returned as swiftly as she'd left, brushing her hair out of her eyes and calming herself down. Danny opened the door and blinked down at the familiar person in front of him.

"Can I help?" Dora said.

* * *

><p>"Is it unlocked?" Tucker said, his hot breath ticking the back of Danny's neck. The dark-haired young man turned to look at his friend, glaring.<p>

"I haven't tried anything yet," he said. Some cirkies locked their doors when they went out, most — on the other hand — left their homes unlocked for anyone to get in. Freakshow was, sadly, the former. "Anyone know how to pick locks?"

Valerie raised her hand.

"RVs are kind of my specialty," she said, walking around to the storage compartment and ignoring the main door. She took out a pocketknife and flipped out the nail file. She jimmied it around in the lock. It opened. "My dad and I went camping in one last summer, and we couldn't get it unlocked. Had to go in through this way. Give me a few minutes and I'll let you guys in."

She slipped in easily. There were some thumps and hissed curses before soft footsteps could be heard from inside. Valerie appear seconds later, her hair a little mussed and clothes askew, but she looked rather relieved and proud of herself.

"How…?" Kwan said, watching her completely baffled.

"The storage is generally right under the master bed and all you have to do is push up," she said, shrugging as she let them in. "Takes a little muscle but it's easy to do when you've done it before."

They got to work looking around. Everyone took a different section — Valerie took the bedroom, making sure she fixed the bed as she did; Sam the driving hub; Kwan the kitchen and dining area; Tucker the storage room; and Danny looked around various spots that no one thought to cover.

The RV was kept tidy and smelled oddly sterile — as if Freakshow bleached the entire thing daily. It was unnerving. There was very little need to shuffle things around and it didn't take long for them to finish. Their search procured nothing.

"Well," Kwan said as they exited, "that proved successful."

Danny stopped and turned to look back at the RV. With the door locked behind them, there was no evidence they had ever been inside. There had to have been something they'd missed, something so obscure and faint no one but Freakshow would have noticed.

But… _**what**_?

* * *

><p>All of the cirkies went their separate ways — they had to help set up for tomorrow's performance as well and they didn't want anyone to be any more suspicious of them than they already were. Danny and Sam set down with Jazz in the Fenton RV.<p>

"And there was nothing?" Jazz said, looking up from the computer screen. The clack of her fingernails on the keyboard paused for a moment. Her face was expressionless. She didn't really believe that the murderer was still on the loose, despite what her brother claimed.

"Yeah," Danny said. "Well, no. Nothing. I mean, there should have been _**something**_ but… nothing."

"What did his RV look like?"

"It was all, you know, clean. It smelled clean — like a hospital or something."

"And you don't take _**that**_ as a clue?"

Danny thought about it for a minute, his jaw dropping and forming an 'o.' That was a big clue, a very big clue indeed. Why hadn't he thought of that sooner?

"If he's going to kill Star," Jazz said, "he'd do it tomorrow. There'd be tons of people milling about and lots of noise to distract everyone. Everyone would just suspect that her body was dumped a few days ago or something."

Sam winced from her perch atop a metal filing cabinet. She climbed her way up with the ease the acrobats had in their performances and seemed to have little fear of heights. Danny now understood how she could get in and out of the living quarters of the circus.

"So what do we do now?" Danny said.

"Well, neither you nor Dora has any work to do tomorrow. I'm sure Sam and Valerie wouldn't mind helping you guys look through the circus during the main show."

"But we'll need more people."

"You'll have to find more on your own, little brother," Jazz said, tying her hair back. "Clockwork needs my help with this show, otherwise I'd volunteer. I'm sure almost anyone out there would be willing to help, you just have to ask."

"That's… that's what I thought."

Danny helped Sam down and they set off to look around.

"We could ask Skulker for help," Sam said, chewing the skin off the end of her thumb. "He seems like the type who would help, I mean. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy to let anyone suffer if he isn't the cause of it."

He snorted but nodded his head. It was true — well, somewhat. He'd never had long conversations with him, but he'd always seemed the kind to help out others when caught between a rock and a hard place.

"He'll be busy," he said. "He helps the aerialists during their performance. He always does."

"What about —"

"More than likely working."

"I was going to ask about Grace."

Danny blinked. Grace was generally free during the nightly performances. Undoubtedly, she would help them, as she did that day. It was only a simple matter of talking to her, like Jazz said.

* * *

><p>That night, as Danny tried to get some sleep, he opened his window — just a crack — to listen to the night sounds. He knew the dangers, deciding it was best to keep a baseball bat next to him, but closed his eyes.<p>

He heard the crickets chirping and the far off sound of a car rolling along down the road some distance away. The wind whispered sounds in the branches and dead leaves, ushering in one of the most sacred of Pagan holidays. Somewhere, a train was clunking along down the tracks in to or out of the city. And…

He shot upright, body seizing up at the sound. It froze the blood in his veins. It was a strangled cry — something like a deer's — but short lived. There were muffled sounds following it but he couldn't place where they'd come from.

He did not get any sleep that night.

* * *

><p><strong>Author stuff cont'd: Yep, fun stuff. I promise I will get to responding to you guys later. I need a few quick seconds to study and then I have a test to start.<strong>


	17. Chapter 17

**Author stuff: Thursday is probably my favorite day of the week. I don't have anything to do on Thursdays besides make food and that's fun stuff. I like cooking and baking and making things. I'm debating whether to make sugar cookies for tomorrow, but I don't want to get fat so maybe not. I've been eating a lot more than usual lately... can I blame in the increasingly cold weather on that? Building up a protective layer to keep me warm? No? ...oh...**

**So, I'm going to make all my comments up here, like I did some chapters back. Interesting things go down.**

**This was, ultimately, a fun chapter to write. Part of it was written early last year, but it underwent some editing when I finally got around to finishing this chapter. It fit, just not as well as I had originally hoped. Ah, well. That happens.**

**Oh! Before I forget, if anyone has any questions or is wondering anything about the writing process or stuff like that, I'm going to do a little follow-up chapter sometime within the first week of November. I'll add it to this when I've finished. Questions can be asked anonymously or through your username on here or tumblr via review or messaging. (This is really just for fun, and I hope that it might help anyone in the future to write more mystery fanfics. _DP_ is lacking in them a bit.)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Danny Phantom_. All legal rights belong to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Court of Stripes<strong>

**by iOc**

**Chapter 17**

_**Thursday, 31 October 2013**_

It was difficult pretending that there was no plan, that nothing unusual was going on, or that anything of particular interest was going to happen, but with the Halloween performance that evening the anxiety was almost too much.

Danny's right leg bounced up and down with excess energy that thrummed through his veins as he waited in the RV. He was dressed as Phantom — the white wig irritating his scalp and making him want to itch, the colored contacts shifting ever so slightly and blocking his pupils, the costume feeling far too feminine — as he was required for the Halloween performance, despite the lack of an actual performance for him. Androgyny was something Vlad had wanted with Phantom — to keep audience members interested, to keep them guessing.

He had managed to loop together a group — who would be able to search the circus grounds during the main performance — that morning. Now as the inevitable hour approached, his stomach was whirling itself into uncomfortable knots and pushed his heart up into his throat. It beat rhythmically as he struggled to breathe properly.

They had to find Star tonight. He was quite sure she was still alive, that she could still be found, that a move wouldn't be made until the performance. Freakshow was always one for theatrics, and Danny was relying heavily on that. He only hoped they wouldn't be too late… A soft knock on the RV door alerted him to a visitor, making him jump out of his thoughts. He answered it and was unnerved by who he saw.

"Hello, Mr. Fenton — or should I say _**Phantom**_," Freakshow said. "All dressed up? Good boy."

"Yeah, well…" Danny said, trailing off. He was unsure of what he was going to say, what he was capable of saying. He wanted to jump on the man and beat him into a bloody pulp, demanding to be given Star's location, but common sense held him back. That, and Skulker was lurking nearby. Why, was a good question. Did Skulker know? Was he in of Freakshow's plans? It seemed like it. He remembered the conversation from a few days back when they acquired the key. They still hadn't figured out who he'd been talking to.

They had questioned him and proved his innocence, true, but it was still unnerving to see him skulking in the shadows — Skulker the skulker, heh.

"I was going to ask you," Freakshow said drawing his attention, "what your plans were for this evening?"

"Oh, um…" Danny thought hard of a lie. His mind was failing him.

"He was going to teach me a few things."

They turned to see Sam walking over — dressed a little less Goth than usual. Her toned down appearance was a welcome sight, as was her familiar face.

"I wanted to know more about the trick with the scarves," she said, sashaying her hands around in an elegant manner. "The one with the hat…?"

Freakshow seemed to buy it, nodding. He smiled at them, and Danny had to fight the urge to shudder at the chill crawling down his spine. Sam's gloved hand reached for his elbow, squeezing as he stumbled down to the grass to stand beside her. Her presence was more than comforting.

"Yes, well, don't have _**too**_ much fun," the albino man said, stalking away. There was something in his voice that wasn't quite right, Danny could sense but he couldn't place his finger on it directly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Skulker move and follow Freakshow. Danny could see his eyes linger on them for only a moment before they — along with the bulky body — dissolved into the shadows.

"I think he knows," Danny said when he was sure they were alone.

"That we know what he did — what he _**does**_?" Sam said, brow scrunching.

"It's possible."

Danny looked down at Sam, who was biting her tongue to hold in a curse. The others would be joining them soon, so they could go over everything one final time before that night. He had to force himself to breathe evenly and slowly in order to calm down his frantic heartbeat.

Slowly, but surely, they arrived — Jazz and Tucker, Valerie, Dora, Tucker, and Kwan and Grace. All of them were ready to take action. He looked around at the familiar faces that he'd come to recognize as partners in this case — this strange task he decided to take on. They all looked as miserable as he felt.

"Right," Danny said, "we'll go over this one final time, just so we're all sure with what we're doing."

"We'll be working in teams," Sam said, pulling out five walkie-talkies and handing them to Dora, Kwan, Grace, Tucker, and Jazz. "Danny and Grace, Dora and Val, and Tucker with me."

"Kwan, Jazz, you'll be our eyes and ears inside the main performance tent. We need to know if and when Freakshow leaves. Our best bet is to follow him to wherever he's stashing Star."

"Isn't that going to be a little… _**dangerous**_?" Jazz said. They all looked at her. She was still having a hard time believing them. "I mean, you believe that he's killed several people before, that he's not afraid to do it. So what's stopping him from going after us?"

"Which is why we're working in pairs," Danny said. "You and Tucker will be surrounded by other people who will notice if you go missing. You'll be safe, I promise."

Jazz nodded, still seeming apprehensive. But, by the time they finished going over possible situations and outcomes, they were all ready to face whatever came their way.

* * *

><p>The roar of the crowd sounded melancholic through the painted canvas of the tent, the stripes vibrant even in the darkness. Generally, Freakshow's voice would be heard — muffled but discernable —amongst the hullaballoo inside, but on opening or final nights of a show on tour or on a holiday, Clockwork would take over.<p>

Danny and Grace were stationed near the backstage exit flap, tucked away between a few RVs in the darkness. The walkie-talkie stood upright on the grass between their feet. They sat in silence, waiting for something to happen. He was still — unfortunately — dressed in his costume, with the exception of his contacts that had started to irritate his eyes. He cursed his wig and its light colors for being so visible in the night.

Val and Dora were stationed somewhere near Freakshow's RV, and Sam and Tucker were the closest duo to the exit. They had strategically placed themselves throughout the area, ready to follow him. All of them had been waiting well over an hour for Freakshow to make his move. So far, they had seen nothing.

Jazz's voice crackled through the walkie-talkie receiver.

"He's heading backstage," she said. "Kwan, be ready."

"Rodger," Kwan said on the other end of his walkie-talkie. "Danny, Grace, keep an eye out for him."

Grace snatched up their device and said: "On it."

She handed it to Danny, who hooked it onto his belt. He turned down the volume so the low crackle of white noise was merely a ghostly whisper. He hopped onto the balls of his feet, crouched over with his hands curled into fists in the grass. It was ape-like, his pose. Grace did the same, tucking herself closer to the RV they were waiting behind.

"He's headed — shit!" Kwan said, "He's not going to his RV. He's moving to the front, he only went this way to throw us off."

"We're closest," Sam said over the walkie-talkie. "We'll head out to the front. Guys, meet up with us as quickly as you can."

"Right," Danny said, pressing the button of the walkie-talkie. He hoped he was loud enough for the others to hear him from the device's spot on his belt. He straightened and sprinted as quickly as he could to the entrance out into the games and attractions. Sam and Kwan were already long gone, their footprints mixing with older ones on the well-beaten, dew slick grass.

"We lost him," Sam said, sounding panicked. "Guys, we lost him. He turned a corner and he just… he wasn't there. He sort of… led us in a circle. No idea where he could've gone."

Danny pulled the walkie-talkie from his waist and hastily replied.

"Sam, Tuck, Val, Dora, meet us by Desiree's tent," he said. "Kwan, Jazz, stay inside. We may need help from other people and you two are our best bet on getting any."

A chorus of "Sure", "No problem", "Yeah", and "See you soon" crackled sputtered out of the receiver. When Danny and Grace spotted the fortune telling ten, Sam and Kwan were already there. Val and Dora were close behind them.

"Okay, new plan," Danny said. "Same groups but we each take a different section of the grounds. Val, Dora, you two get games. Sam, Tucker, can you two handle the housed attractions? Great. Grace and I will take the tents."

They split again, heading to the different sections and they searched. When even that procured no results, Danny stood in silently, listening for any sounds that might tip him off. There was the music from the main tent and the roar of the crowd, as well as the cheerful calliope — which sounded more like a dirge at the moment, Grace's steady breathing, and the crackle over the walkie-talkie on his hip. There was nothing that would give him any leads to his questions.

Grunting in frustration, he stalked about. His eyes shifted carefully around, tracing the shadows. Grace followed him, she too looking. She eyed whatever section he turned away from, just in case he missed something.

"Nothing here, Danny," Dora said over her end of the walkie-talkie. "Valerie and I have looked all over the place."

He plucked the device off his hip and pressed the button.

"We're not finding anything on this end," he said into the speaker. "How about you guys, Sam?"

He was greeted only by the crackle. He waited several more moments but received no answer. He called for her again, Tucker too, and still nothing.

He cursed and looked at Grace. He was about to say something when a voice — familiar but hollow and eerie — came from the walkie-talkie.

"Want to play a game?"


	18. Chapter 18

**Author stuff: Here it is, the moment you have all been waiting for; the high wire act of the century, the arial acrobatics show that will leave you wondering if they can fly, the clown show that will leave you begging to breathe, the illusionist's spectacle that will make you not believe your eyes — Danny Fenton tracks down the murderer.**

**(Make note of my use of murderer instead of serial killer. There's a reason for that.)**

**The ending to this chapter changed from my original plan, and has an entire scene added that wasn't supposed to be there. And twists! So many twists I hadn't planned on when I first started writing all those months ago. **

**Remember, if you have any questions about this story — how it was written, stuff like that — don't be afraid to message me or something. I will be doing an afterwards chapter-thingy later in November.**

**I leave you now to enjoy this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Danny Phantom_. All legal rights belong to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Court of Stripes<strong>

**by iOc**

**Chapter 18**

_**Thursday, 31 October 2013**_

Breathing hurt. He ached for air to fill his lungs in a normal fashion, not the strained, burning sensation it was coming. The words still haunted his memory: "_Want to play a game?_" What kind of human _**did**_ that? What kind of human mocked someone who was panicking — starting to panic? But then, the person they were dealing with wasn't exactly thinking like a human.

He had long since lost Grace, who was somewhere far behind him. She and Dora and Val were lost somewhere in the calliope, bright lights, tents, and other temporary buildings. His brain was growing frantic as he tried to mull over the next words Freakshow had spoken:

"_Turn, turn, turn, turn around.  
>Nothing moved can be found<em>."

Riddles? Right, riddles were a game — part of a game. What kind of game turns around? Lots of games were on wheels at the circus, but Sam and Tucker hadn't been by the games. So, the houses? What house turns things around?

He started in the direction of the fun houses. He paced between the eight or so temporary buildings. The haunted house and the fun maze had rotating seats and tunnels that threw off a person's balance as they walked on tilted floors, but neither turned things around so they didn't move.

"Giving up, are we?" the voice said from the walkie-talkie. "And oh, so close too. Perhaps, all you need is another clue.

"Drop me, and I'm sure to crack,  
>Smile, and I'll smile back."<p>

Danny frowned down at the walkie-talkie clutched in his fist. He'd held onto it the entire time he'd been manically running around and he didn't even notice. He wished that there was some sort of tracking device so that he could press a button and see their location… He blinked. There _**was**_ a tracking device — well, sort of. There was a button on the side for Morse code. It had been some innovative design added to walkie-talkies _**years**_ ago, just in case someone was ever in trouble and found themselves incapable of speech. It was an ingenious invention.

He smiled and pressed the button. He had to strain his ears to hear the tone — there were two. One was distant and far away, moaning over the chorus of the calliope and joyous cries of the audience — Dora and Val. The second was closer, muffled but distinctly closer than he could have hoped for. He turned in a slow circle, making sure it was coming from the direction he thought. Yes it was most definitely coming from…

"The Hall of Mirrors," he said. He mounted the familiar steps in two paces, skipping several stair. He was stopped before he could enter. A panting Grace had caught up, and a breathless Dora and Val were right behind her. She grabbed his arm and pulled him down a step.

"We go in as a team," Grace said. Danny nodded, not trusting himself to speak. They started to head inside when Valerie stopped them.

"We should go back and get some flashlights," she said. "It's dark in there and who knows what will happen to us. Better to see something coming than not see it at all."

"We don't have time!" Danny said, taken aback at how sharp his voice came out. He growled, ruffling his hair — his wig. Why was he still wearing the damnable thing? Still, he straightened it. "Tucker and Sam are in there, and so is Star. If we don't find them soon…"

"We really don't have much of a say in this, do we?" Dora said. He shook his head.

"We'll make a chain — hold hands."

"I'll lead the way," Grace said, taking the walkie-talkie from him and clipping it to her belt. She offered out her hand and Danny took it, offering his own hand to Dora and Val. He didn't look back to see who had grabbed it, but she squeezed his hand in a reassuring manner. A second later, they were immersed in darkness.

Danny focused on breathing steadily and listening intently as they clomped along. Through his nose, he picked up the familiar metallic scent that always echoed throughout the Hall. He had never attributed it to anything but the metal grating of the floors, but the way it burned into his memory frightened him. It was sharper — tangier — than usual.

He could hear the others doing the same and Grace's left hand tracing delicately along the mirrored walls, no doubt smudging the glass with the oils on her fingertips. From time to time, they would pass under a dim, amber light where trails split up leading away from the entrance. The first few were easy to navigate for anyone of any age, but after that — even for a cirky — to not know the way could leave one lost for hours. After five turns, Grace stopped.

"Which way?" she said, looking at the three possible routes.

"To the right," Danny said. "The one to the left is a roundabout and the one in front of us is a dead end. So… to the right."

Grace nodded and they started up again.

"Maybe you should be leading, Danny," she said, her voice sounding far too loud in the enclosed, dark space.

"No, you're doing fine," he said, trying to match her volume. He, too, sounded loud. They reached another split. He directed them to the left this time. The young woman right behind him had just passed through when she cried out.

"Valerie!"

Danny turned to see Dora reaching back for someone who wasn't there. He released their hands and started back to the lit area. He looked down the other two paths. One was a dead end and the other… He frowned. Where did that one lead, again?

"Which way?" he said.

Dora pointed to the one to their right, the dead end. He shook his head. That couldn't be right… could it? Who designed this place again? Who was the one who created the entire layout? His frown deepened when he remembered. _**Freakshow**_. Undoubtedly, he had added some secret passages disguised as emergency exits. The dead end was probably one of them. But where would it lead?

They needed to get deeper into the maze, that was for sure, but how deep did they need to actually get? How did they not know that their friends were being held closer to the exit? Or the entrance?

Because Freakshow needed seclusion. He needed a place where few people would go…

"We go straight ahead," he said, nodding his head in the only other option. He held his hand back for either one of them to take — trembling hands gripped his tightly between clammy fingers. He squeezed the hand this time, hoping to reassure the owner before marching ahead.

He lead them deeper into the Hall of Mirrors, back tracking only once or twice when he thought he had turned the correct way. His mind was starting to fail him as he felt the panic start to well up inside him. His blood thumped increasingly erratically in his ears, his heart a tattoo on his ribs.

He stumbled when they entered a familiar room — the Silent Reaper Room. It was the most secluded space he could think of and, perhaps, the most frightening. A person could get easily turned around and be lost for some time before finding the escape, if they were lucky. He hoped they wouldn't spend the last of their time in that room.

Danny could catch glimpses of stars overhead and the silver sliver of the waning moon. There was an amber glow emanating from one direction — closer to the other attractions, as the calliope was chirping from the same location. He let out a heavy breath through his nose and closed his eyes, listening.

He could hear Dora and Grace behind him — one of them still holding his hand, the other twisting the back of his vest in her palm. Their breathing was loud, despite their attempts to keep them quiet with their free hands. The cheer of the crowd was still audible, though it was farther away and far more muffled than it had been before. There was a _drip, drip, drip_ of something somewhere within the room — he hoped it wasn't blood dripping off someone. And —

_**Thrump!**_

His eyes shot open and he searched frantically around. Both Dora and Grace were still with them, Dora muffling her yelp of surprise at the sound reverberating all around them. He caught the wavering of one of the mirrored walls. Someone had kicked that section.

"Come on," he said, pulling them both along. He wove them through the maze until he was certain they reached the section someone kicked. And, sure enough, by feeling around he found a scuff mark on one of the mirrors and something wet… blood? There were drips of blood on the floor and mirror — just barely visibly in the lighting. He gulped down any fear that was rising. Now was _**not**_ the time to start panicking.

They continued cautiously around the corner. Danny just missed being hit by… something, but Dora wasn't as lucky. Danny heard a sickening snap reminiscent of a twig breaking and her cries of pain. He didn't think much — he charged, ramming the person in the middle. He saw a flash of oddly pale skin and something in his mind snapped. He had found Freakshow.

He didn't know what came over him, but he forgot the next few seconds. All he knew was that someone was pulling him off Freakshow, his knuckles had a dull ache, and something warm and wet and sticky clung to them.

He took the scene in with a flashing red light — when had that come on? — and blaring sirens. The sprinklers started going off, sending sprays of water down and around them. Sam was there holding a blade to Freakshow's neck, whispering words in his ears. Tucker and Star — the latter having seen better days, with blood coating one side of her head making her hair stick to it at odd angles — were holding Danny back. Grace was frantically talking into the walkie-talkie, one hand flapping about madly. And Dora was huddled down on the floor, whimpering. They were all a mess.

Sam managed to maneuver Freakshow into a standing position.

"Alright," she said, her voice trembling. Danny caught her licking her lips, wiping away a trail of blood with her tongue. "We're going to head downstairs to the entrance — all of us — and you," her eyes snapped to Freakshow, "are going to be handed over to the police. We have more than enough evidence against you, so don't even _**think**_ of trying anything."

Danny took the lead, making sure Freakshow and Sam were right behind him at all times. Dora sobbed as she hobbled along after them, leaning on Grace for support. Star walked stiffly but proudly in front of Tucker — who had the rear. What a sight they made.

They reached the stairs and, as Danny went to help Sam with Freakshow, the albino twisted her wrist — an unhealthy pop coming from it — and pushed past Danny, stabbing the knife into his leg. Danny crumpled and fell down several stairs, Freakshow flying over his head. Sam cried out, whether in anger or despair he wasn't sure.

Danny shimmied the knife out of his leg as quick as a flick and hobbled down the rest of the stairs. He made it down several corridors, keeping Freakshow within earshot. When he was sure the coast was clear, he flicked his wrist and sent the knife flying. It something solid and that solid something slid to the floor. Short, gasping, wet breaths were heard along with rustling fabric as something was pulled along the floors — or as if the solid something was dragging itself.

He stopped for a minute to catch his breath before tailing after what he had shot. He found Freakshow's body in a pool of his own blood three turns away from the exit, Skulker kneeling over him as he pulled out the knife. He looked up at Danny when he heard the sounds of someone walking toward him.

"You killed him," he said. He looked surprised and relieved, then he noticed Danny's leg. "Let's get you out of here."

Danny couldn't find his voice to protest, so he allowed himself to be led out. As they passed Freakshow, Danny stared down at him. His haunting red eyes gaped open, unblinking. The overhead sprinklers had stopped but the residual water swirled together with the blood, streaming down to a water spout that had been drilled into the floor for such purposes. He made a nightmarish sight.

They paused just beyond the body to allow Danny to lean up against the mirror, unable to look away as the horror of what he'd done settled in. He wasn't quite sure — despite the blood and the lack of breathing — that Freakshow was dead. It didn't seem possible.

They others soon caught up to them, startled to see Skulker with Danny. Sam reached him first, cradling her bad wrist close to her heart. She whispered something and tugged his hand, pulling him away and allowing Skulker to help him. He allowed her to lead him out, only sure of the others following them by the sloshing of their shoes on the metal grating.

He was blinded the moment they stepped outside. He shielded his eyes and hissed, the wound in his leg starting to burn. Sam let his hand go as she slumped against the outside wall. He was enveloped by his parents and sister, all fretting over him — stroking his cheeks and hair after they discarded the wig, checking his eyes, and demanding a doctor.

The others received similar treatment — he managed to catch Aragon and the Fright Knight near Dora, but everyone else blurred together as the world collapsed into darkness. When he thought about it later, he thought how that would have made a very bad ending to a scene in a movie.

* * *

><p><strong>Monday, 4 November 2013<strong>

"What do you think you're doing?"

Danny yelped and nearly fell out of the hospital bed — _**nearly**_. He fell backwards into the rather flat pillows and starchy blankets instead. He looked shyly up to see Sam and Jazz watching him with bemused grins on their faces. Both looked rather well and healthy, although Sam's left arm was bandaged up to her elbow.

"You know you're supposed to stay in bad," Jazz said, sauntering into the room with far more grace than she normally had, a bag over her shoulder swinging from side to side as she walked. Something was up — he could tell — by the cocky glint in her eyes as she sat down in an available chair.

"Alright," he said, righting himself, "what's going on?"

"Not a whole lot," Sam said, joining them and sitting on the edge of the bed. "The mayor wants to award all of us with the key to Amity Park — which isn't as cool as it sounds —, Freakshow's past has been dug up and it's absolutely terrifying… Oh! Also, Skulker allowed me to interview him about Freakshow. Turns out he's been tailing him for some time and has been trying to figure out a way to stop him. He was trying to get Clockwork fired and become the next owner. And —"

"— and Clockwork chose who will be the next owner of _Cirque de Fantômes_," Jazz said, "or should I say, _**owners**_."

"I completely forgot about that," he said, frowning down at his limp hands in his lap. He clenched them and relaxed, looking up to meet her gaze. "Who is it?"

"Mom and dad."

He blinked, letting the words sink in. At the end of the performance season, his parents would be owning and running the _Cirque de Fantômes_. It was a peculiar thought, to say the least, but it was a good one. His parents would be great at that job.

"There's more good news," Sam said, pulling out a newspaper she had hidden Lord knows where. She handed it to him, front page with a bold headline reading: "_Murderer in Circus Caught, Circus Freak Takes Him Down, Currently Healing in Local Hospital_." The article went on to describe the event — with interviews from Sam, Jazz, Clockwork, and many others who had witnessed their triumphant escape from the Hall of Mirrors — alive but not wholly uninjured. There was even a diagram of the hall, labeling where the main attack had taken place and where Freakshow had died.

It was morbid, and over halfway through Danny had to put it away. He looked from both Jazz to Sam and back with sad eyes.

"Just give yourself some time, little brother," Jazz said, standing up and pecking him on the forehead. "You've been given the rest of the year off to heal, so you'd better enjoy it."

"You'll be released tomorrow," Sam said, picking up the newspaper and folding it back up. She handed it to Jazz, who slipping it into her bag.

"I almost forgot." Jazz retrieved a white notebook from her bag and handed it to him. "The police wanted to look through it, to see what information you gathered, but I told them they had to ask you. And besides, I think there's the start of a good film in there. Keep an eye on it, yeah? Come on, Sam, I need to go pass out some flyers about the changes made to the circus's schedule and I could use some help."

"What about the key?" Danny said.

"What _**about** _the key?"

"What did it open?"

"We didn't think to check," Sam said, shrugging.

They bid him farewell and wished that he try not to move around so much — healing took time, especially when leg muscles were cut through, though he'd been pretty lucky to even be able to walk. But they needn't worry; his mind was wrapped around the start of a script and the possibility of seeing it on the silver screens. And he knew just how he was going to end it.

* * *

><p><strong>Author stuff cont'd: Well, there you have it. I think I filled in most plot holes. Any that are left are filled in during the epilogue — coming tomorrow!<strong>

**Funny fact. My computer doesn't recognize "Aragon" as a name and it changed it to "Tarragon." Everyone, meet Aragon the Tarragon Dragon! (Tarragon is a herb. It tastes a bit like licorice, despite what some people say. I don't like it very much. XD)**


	19. Epilogue

**Author stuff: My last chapter for all of you. I wrap everything up here. It's been a swell ride, my readers. If you ever get bored, feel free to reread or check out my other _DP_ fic _Do Not Cros__s,_ or any of my other fics. **

**Remember, if you have any questions specifically about writing this fic or writing mystery stories or anything along those lines, feel free to ask me questions. Or, if there is anything I didn't cover, left open or ambiguous, shoot me a message or review. I will be answering all questions in an extra chapter later this month.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Danny Phantom_. All legal rights belong to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Court of Stripes<strong>

**by iOc**

**Epilogue**

_**11 October 2023**_

"What do you think you're doing?"

The young woman whirled around, a gloved hand pressed against her heart in an attempt to slow down the beating. She pressed her back up against the door to the Hall of Mirrors, but she heaved a sigh of relief when she saw who it was.

"Oh, Mr. Kelly," she said, laughing a little. "You startled me."

"I can see that, Miss Stark," Mr. Kelly said, frowning. "But, _**what **_do you think you're doing?"

"I was just…" She trailed off, innocently pointing to the door behind her.

"Miss Stark, I would advise you from going inside." He walked over to her and draped his arm around her shoulders. He led her away from the temporary building. "You see, the place has just been cleaned, and I know you don't want to dirty the floors before the guests arrive. Why don't you go… play with the animals or whatever it is that you do, hm?"

His arm dropped from her shoulders and he walked away. Miss Stark's lips puckered in disappointment, then morphed into a frown. She turned and looked back at the Hall of Mirrors, then back at his retreating back.

"What are you hiding, Mr. Kelly?" she said to herself.

"And… cut!"

A loud buzzer sounded from behind the camera crew. The gaffer lowered his equipment and nodded to the young woman, who pulled off her red-haired wig and smiled.

"That was good work everyone," the director said. "Okay, we meet back up here later tonight to film some of the most vital scenes, so everyone rest up while they can. It might be a long night tonight."

Miss Stark — or the actress who player her, rather — stood off to the side, waiting to receive the attention of the man in charge. He approached her, all smiles and hugs.

"You did great," he said. "As always."

"Thanks," she said, starting to remove the nylon cap that kept her natural hair under the wig.

"No, leave that on. I like you like that."

"Oh ha ha." She removed it in spite of his jests. The braid her hair had been twisted into was wet with sweat and was coming undone. Frowning, she shook her hair out, running her fingers through it to get out any knots. "So, what will we be doing?"

"I was thinking dinner…"

"Can't eat too much. I have a dress to fit into later, Mr. Director."

"You always say that."

"I'm serious! 50s clothes are very specific to the wear and fit. It's not like I can squeeze myself with a corset and call it a day."

"Well…"

"I'm _**not**_ wearing a corset. Some of the things I'm doing for this film call for a varied range of movement and a corset would only hinder that. Garters are bad enough as it is."

"I love you, too, dear," he said, pulling her into an embrace and pecking her nose.

"Hm, you say that every time when you're trying to get out of trouble," she said. She slid out of his arms and into her trailer, he followed her. "Oh, Danny, I heard from Star this morning. Where is it…? Ah, here! She sent me an email."

She handed him several sheets of paper, stapled together. He smiled at the familiar email address and read the message while she changed out of her costume. It was mostly updates from the circus — everyone was doing fine, Dora and Nicholas (the Fright Knight, Danny eventually learned his name) were finally engaged after convincing Aragon for the last time, he was sorely missed, blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda, Jazz is pregnant, new acrobats, fire dancers were thinking about retiring…

"Wait," Danny said, "my sister's pregnant? Who's the father?!"

"I emailed Star about that a while ago. She hasn't responded. I think she's performing today. I can't believe she took over as illusionist."

"My big sister's pregnant."

"Yeah, I know. I read the letter."

"Yeah, but… she's my big sister. She's supposed to set the example for me, you know? She's not supposed to get knocked up by some jerk."

"Where's the bra that I wear with this top…?"

"Jazz is the responsible one. What's wrong with her? Does she even _**know**_ who the father is?"

"I'm positive she knows who the dad is. Where are you, Mr. Lacy-cup?"

"You know what, we're going to have to cancel the rest of the shoot. I have to go see her, talk about adoption and stuff. I'm sure some gay couple out there would like to take in a baby."

"Damn, can't find the bra…"

"Sam, pack you're things. We're going after my sister."

"Danny, I'm _**positive**_ she's fine," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Where's that dress you like to wear, you know the one will the silver skulls? You look good in that — intimidating too. Hey, maybe you can convince Jazz to put the baby up for adoption!"

"You aren't even listening to a thing I said, are you?"

"Yeah, that will definitely work. I can see it now, Jazz spilling everything and happy that we're helping her."

"You know what, I'm not going to wear a bra today. How does that sound?"

"_**Perfect**_! Absolutely perfect! We have the perfect plan."

Sam rolled her eyes and slipped into her street clothes, hanging her costume up and setting aside the undergarments she wore with it. She fixed the wig on the stand and nodded. Everything was in place.

"Danny," she said, "did you even read the rest of the letter?"

"No, why?"

"Just do it."

…_courts have finally come to an agreement. Showenhower has been convicted of over one hundred and sixty murders of innocent women. It's still weird to think that because of him, all of this happened…_

"They finally decided."

"Yup." She held up various printouts from local papers. "If he wasn't already dead, Wisconsin would be the one to go through with the dirty killing deed."

"That's…"

"Messed up, yeah, but a lot of people want justice, you know? They're all kind of upset that some 20-something-year old circus freak got to him before they did."

"Yeah…"

"So, is it worth the wait?" she said.

He sighed and read over the letter again — completely ignoring the part about his sister's pregnancy. He picked up his backpack, a ratty looking thing, and pulled out a notebook decorated with magazine cutouts. "A Circus to Die For" was written in black sharpie. He tucked the email and the printouts between the cover and the handwritten text inside. He turned, looked at her, and asked:

"You tell me."

_**Fin.**_

* * *

><p><strong>Author stuff cont'd: This was a crazy chapter. This was the second chapter actually finished writing very early on, but had to be revised when something important changed with Freakshow — hint, he lived. <strong>

**To my guest reviewer, whoever you are, I will be answering some of your questions in a few days. I wish I knew who you were so I could answer them personally.**

**I can't wait to see what my dear readers think. I hope you all enjoyed this crazy ride. **

**_Adieu_. **


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